>ABNEY  TODD 

FNWESTCOTT 


DABNEY  TODD 


"  'PEARS  TO  ME,  NEEVEY,  YOU  GIT  YOUNGER  THE  OLDER  YOU 
ARE.  .  .  .  IF.  I  DIDN'T  KNOW  YOU  WAS  'MOST  AS  OLD  AS  MK, 
I'D  SAY  YOU  WAS  'BOUT  TWENTY-FIVE." 


DABNEY  TODD 


BY 

FRANK  N.  WESTGOTT 

AUTHOR  OF 

HEPSEY  BURKE 

A   SISTER   TO    DAVID    HARUM 


B 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

M.  V.  HUNTER 


New  York 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 

Publishers 


Copyright,    1916,    by 
THE   H.    K.    FLY   COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I    THE  Dm  Is  CAST 1 1 

II    NANCE  PELOT 27 

III  IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES.  ...  36 

IV  NEEVEY  TODD 46 

V    THE  WOLF'S  BREED 63 

VI    DABNEY  TO  THE  RESCUE 71 

VII  IN  LIGHTER  VEIN 78 

VIII  LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS 90 

IX    DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT 108 

X    NEEVEY  LENDS  A  HAND 125 

XI    "Hoss  SENSE"  132 

XII    CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS 142 

XIII  DABNEY'S    TRANQUILLITY    Is    DIS 

TURBED   155 

XIV  BLUEBIRDS  OF  HAPPINESS 171 

XV    BARNEY  SHAYNE    LAYS    DOWN  THE 

LAW  1 80 

XVI    CHET  MAKES  A  START  .  .186 


2138726  * 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XVII    THE  HOPE  Box  SOCIETY 194 

XVIII    BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS. 208 

XIX    THE  WAY  OF  THE  STRONG 219 

XX    THE  ENE  OF  THE  GAME 229 

XXI    JOURNEY'S  END 239 

XXII    DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL 246 

XXIII    SODIUM  CHLORIDE 259 

XXIV    JOE  PELOT  KEEPS  His  WORD 267 

XXV    NEEVEY  CHANGES  HER  MIND 277 

XXVI    DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER 285 

XXVII  THE  DOUBLE  CROSS 297 

XXVIII  SANCTUARY 308 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE. 
"  'Pears  to  me,  Neevey,  you  git  younger  the 

older  you  are.  .  .  .  If  I  didn't  know  you 
was  'most  as  old  as  me,  I'd  say  you  was 
'bout  twenty-five" Frontispiece 

Why  did  fate  seem  to  pursue  and  torture  her, 

who  only  wanted  to  be  like  other  girls  ? .  .         40 

Nance's  eyelashes  quivered  ever  so  lightly,  but 
it  was  sign  enough.  Larry  Shayne  knew 
his  chance  shot  had  struck  home 182 

Together  they  sat  down,  hand  in  hand,  before 
the  fireplace,  watching  the  sputtering 
flame,  symbol  of  the  home-life  and  the 
race-life  from  all  the  ages  past  and  to  all 
the  ages  still  to  come. . . 309 


DABNEY  TODD 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   DIE   IS   CAST 

IT  was  a  drizzly,  uncomfortable  sort  of  after 
noon.     Half  a  dozen  men,  vaguely  exhaling  the 
atmosphere  of  the  barnyard,  as  Theosophists 
assure  us  our  mortal  bodies  are  haloed  by  the  un 
seen  psychic  aura,  were  gathered  in  Link  Watkins' 
store,  busily  engaged  in  doing  nothing  at  all. 

Since  it  was  too  wet  for  plowing,  or  for  any  other 
work  than  mending  harness  in  the  barn,  and  not  the 
kind  of  weather  in  which  a  wise  farmer  would  take 
his  horses  out,  what  more  natural  than  for  those  who 
lived  within  easy  reach  of  the  village  to  drop  into 
the  store  to  gossip  until  chore  time  ? 

Though  late  spring,  the  rain  had  injected  a  chill 
into  the  air.  [Therefore  a  cheerful  wood  fire  blazed 
in  the  big  sheet-iron  stove.  Several  feet  in  high- 
laced  boots  rested  on  the  iron  ring  around  its  base, 

ii 


12  DABNEY  TODD 

and  the  atmosphere  was  foggy  with  the  fumes  of 
strong  tobacco. 

A  good-looking  young  man,  his  lithe  form  clad  in 
a  gray  sweater  and  overalls,  was  painting  the  ceiling 
with  long,  deliberate  sweeps.  He  was  so  tall  that 
he  did  not  require  a  ladder.  Instead,  he  stood  on 
the  counter,  whence  he  reached  his  work  without  ef 
fort.  At  the  same  time  he  frequently  took  part  in 
the  conversation  which  flowed  steadily  along  below. 

A  large  tin  can  of  blue  paint  hung  on  his  left  arm. 
He  dipped  in  his  brush  and  wiped  it  off  on  the  edge 
of  the  can  at  intervals  with  the  unhurried  precision 
of  a  man  who  meant  to  do  a  good  job  if  it  took  all 
summer. 

Leaning  against  the  counter,  his  hat  pushed  back 
and  a  cigar  in  a  corner  of  his  mouth,  was  Link  Wat- 
kins  himself.  He  left  the  business  of  the  store  to 
his  assistant,  Dory  Benton,  who,  gray-bearded,  ret 
icent  and  watchful  of  trade,  doled  out  to  casual  cus 
tomers  everything  from  dried  beans  to  rat-traps, 
heedless  of  the  frivolity  around  the  stove.  The 
cash  register  jingled  intermittently,  and  Link  had 
plenty  of  time  to  "  visit  "  while  still  making  money. 

As  often  happens  in  a  small  settlement  like  this 
village  of  New  Canaan,  far  up  in  the  lake  country 
of  New  York  State,  the  subject  under  controversy  in 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  13 

the  store  was  a  new  departure  in  the  church.  And 
church  gossip,  particularly  that  concerning  the  church 
choir,  was  a  never-failing  conversational  spring, 
which  flowed  freely  as  long  as  a  few  customers  were 
gathered  in  Link's  store. 

"  We're  gettin'  grand  op'ry  in  our  service  since 
the  new  organist  come,"  declared  Spencer  Howe, 
crossing  one  leg  over  the  other  with  an  air  of  finality. 
"  When  I  seen  that  long-haired  feller  from  Redburn 
carry  his  violin  into  the  church  last  Thursday,  I 
knowed  there  was  goin'  to  be  somethin'  what  couldn't 
be  called  spiritual.  An',  by  jodey!  you  know  what 
happened  Sunday." 

"  It's  Frank  Lester,  the  new  organist,  what  done 
it,"  observed  Titus  Showell,  taking  his  pipe  from  his 
lips,  and  hurriedly  putting  it  back  again.  "A  fiddle 
surely  can't  be  called  Script' ral.  I  dunno  as  I  ever 
heerd  of  one  bein'  played  in  the  Bible  —  or  in  this 
town  till  last  Sunday." 

"  Nat'rally  you  didn't,"  agreed  Howe.  "  It's 
allers  harps,  an'  trumpets,  an'  timbrels,  an'  hosannas, 
an'  things  like  that.  Not  squealin'  catgut.  Why, 
it's  a  insult  to  th'  Lord!  He  ain't  pleased  by  no 
sech  new-fangled  notions,  but  wants  salvation  to  run 
in  the  good,  ole-fashioned  ways  that  was  good  enough 
fer  our  fathers  an'  had  oughta  be  good  enough 


i4  DABNEY  TODD 

fer  us!  I  aim  to  be  a  ree-ligious  man,  an'  I'm 
trustin'  to  save  my  soul  by  doin'  an'  sayin'  what's 
right.  .Therefore —  Gosh  'Imighty!  What 
the—" 

A  large  splotch  of  blue  paint  had  fallen  on  the 
back  of  his  hand  just  as  he  had  thrust  it  out  in  ora 
torical  flourish.  Before  he  could  finish  the  ejacula- 
tory  sentence  with  which  he  had  interrupted  his  mor 
alizing,  the  young  man  on  the  counter  came  tumbling 
down  and  sprawled  across  his  knees. 

The  tin  can  of  paint  flopped  upside  down  in  the 
lap  of  the  peacefully-smoking  Titus  Showell. 

"  M-m-my  foot  slipped!  "  stammered  the  painter, 
slowly  untangling  himself.  "  I  reckon  I  was  too 
near  the  edge  of  the  counter.  Ain't  hurt,  are  you, 
Titus?" 

"  'Tain't  your  fault  if  I  ain't!"  snapped  Titus. 
"  'Pears  to  me,  Chet  Todd,  's  you'd  do  better  t'  stick 
to  blacksmithin',  which  is  your  rightful  callin',  'stead 
o'  tryin'  to  do  all  the  paintin'  an'  other  work  in  New 
Canaan.  Jack  of  all  trades  an'  master  o'  none,  you 
know!  Like  the  feller  that  manufactures  cradles 
an'  done  fine  till  he  tried  to  fill  all  his  orders  —  then 
he  most  mis'ably  failed.  You  may  be  able  t'  shoe  a 
hoss  —  I  ain't  sayin'  you  can't  —  but  there's  many  a 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  15 

blacksmith  who  c'dn't  even  paint  a  small  'plcter,  let 
alone  a  store  ceilin'." 

Titus  Showell  was  mad,  and  though  he  suffered 
Chet  to  wipe  the  paint  off  his  knees  and  grunted 
satisfaction  that  most  of  it  had  fallen  to  the  floor, 
instead  of  upon  him,  he  continued  to  look  at  the 
young  man  as  if  he  regarded  him  as  a  general  in 
competent. 

As  for  Deacon  Howe,  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
resolved  to  bear  his  cross  with  Christian  fortitude. 
He  rubbed  the  paint  off  his  hand  and  continued  his 
remarks  on  the  decadence  of  the  church  choir  as  if 
he  hadn't  been  disturbed  at  all  by  the  untimely  inter 
ruption. 

"  It  ain't  only  the  violin  that's  so  bad,"  said  he. 
"  But  the  things  they  sing  is  too  purty.  We  don't 
want  purty  tunes  to  lead  us  to  salvation.  The  next 
thing  you  know,  they'll  be  dancin'  up  there  in  the 
choir,  with  the  fiddler  callin'  off." 

"  Mr.  Blake  thinks  it's  all  right,"  ventured  Chet, 
wiping  a  streak  of  blue  paint  down  one  of  his  cheeks 
and  across  his  nose.  "  Since  we've  been  singin'  them 
anthems  an'  canticles,  he  says  they's  a  sight  more  in 
terest  in  his  sermons  than  there  used  to  be,  and  nat 
urally  it  makes  him  more  earnest." 


1 6  DABNEY  TODD 

"  If  a  dominie  has  to  depend  on  fiddles  an'  op'ry 
singin'  to  make  him  airnest,  then  I  say  he  ain't  got 
no  real  call  to  be  in  the  ministry,"  grunted  the  dea 
con. 

"  Wa'al,  Spence,  you  had  a  hand  in  bringin'  him 
here,"  broke  in  another  voice,  as  a  well-built  man 
of  sixty  joined  the  group  at  the  stove. 

He  was  big,  this  new-comer  with  the  twinkling 
gray  eyes  and  kindly  smile;  but  the  chin  of  him, 
rugged  and  uncompromising,  and  the  forceful  poise 
of  his  well-modeled  head,  gave  more  than  a  passing 
hint  of  the  iron  that  lay  underneath  that  smiling  ex 
terior. 

"  If  you  will  be  a  warden,"  he  went  on,  "  you've 
got  to  take  the  responsibilities.  When  you're  hitched 
to  a  plow  you  have  to  take  it  along,  no  matter  where 
you  lead  it." 

"  That's  all  right,"  grumbled  Howe.  "  But  I'm 
a  warden  in  a  church,  not  a  leader  of  grand  op'ry. 
An'  I  ain't  no  hoss  hitched  to  a  plow,  nuther.  If  I 
was,  I'd  make  a  straighter  furrow  than  some  's  I 
knows  — 'specially  when  it  comes  to  ree-ligion." 

Dabney  Todd  threw  back  his  head,  closed  the 
twinkling  eyes  and  laughed  until  each  one  of  the 
tiny  little  wrinkles  about  his  likable  mouth  seemed 
to  be  laughing  at  you  individually. 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  17 

"  I  reckon  bein'  hitched  to  a  plow  ain't  no  worse 
than  bein'  hooked  up  to  idees  that's  too  old-fashioned 
to  let  yer  know  a  new  thing's  good,  Spence,"  he  said. 
"  The  hoss-shoes  we  put  on  now-a-days  ain't  the  same 
as  they  was  thirty  years  ago,  an'  the  nails  are  made 
diff'rent,  too.  But  the  bosses  don't  complain,  an'  I 
reckon  some  o'  the  roadsters  make  better  time  with 
the  new  shoes  than  what  they  did  with  the  old." 

"  Hoss-shoes  ain't  ree-ligion,"  retorted  Howe. 

"  Prejudices  ain't  religion,  nuther,  Spence.  If 
they  was,  churches  would  be  a  sight  fuller  than  what 
they  are.  Funny  thing,"  he  added,  more  seriously, 
"  how  the  world  takes  its  religion.  It's  tolerant  in 
'most  everythin'  else  but  that.  Men  can  meet  to 
gether  an'  talk  bosses,  or  dogs,  or  crops,  or  business, 
or  'most  any  ole  thing,  an'  not  quarrel  serious;  but 
when  they  git  onto  religion,  which  means  love  an' 
tolerance  an'  the  Golden  Rule  if  it  means  anythin* 
at  all,  they're  liable  to  tear  each  other's  hearts  out, 
over  it.  Men  will  fight  for  religion,  write  for  it, 
an'  even  die  for  it  —  they'll  do  any  ole  thing  but  live 
it!" 

The  warden  was  silenced  for  once,  and  Dabney 
Todd  turned  to  Chet : 

"  Say,  Chet,  how  much  longer  are  you  goin'  to 
be  with  this  paintin'  job?  " 


1 8  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Guess  I'll  have  it  done  this  afternoon,"  replied 
Chet.  "  If  I  ain't  spilled  all  my  paint." 

"  Won't  have  time  to  do  any  work  at  the  shop, 
will  you?  " 

"  I  guess  I  will  if  I  get  through." 

"  All  right !  Come  over  as  soon  as  you  can. 
Joe  Pelot's  got  one  o'  them  benders  of  his  on  ag'in, 
an'  they  ain't  much  work  bein'  done  in  his  place. 
None  at  all,  I  might  say  —  for  it  don't  matter 
whether  a  man  shoes  hosses  for  a  livin',  writes  books, 
hoes  potatoes  or  sets  in  the  seats  o'  the  mighty,  booze 
will  surely  make  him  an'  his  job  as  much  strangers 
as  though  they  wasn't  even  on  speakin'  terms.  You 
can't  beat  rum;  you're  trimmed  at  the  start,  in  that 
race.  They's  two  teams  standin'  out  in  front  of  our 
shop  now,  waitin'  till  Amos  can  'tend  to  'em. 
Reckon  I'll  have  to  tackle  one  of  'em  myself  if  you 
don't  git  through  'fore  dark,  Chet." 

Chet  had  his  brush  going  again,  by  now,  and 
grunted  an  affirmative  um-humph  without  stopping. 

"  Wa'al,  I'll  go  back  an'  see  how  Amos  is  gittin' 
along.  You  come  on  soon  as  you  can,  Chet." 

Dabney  Todd,  his  big  frame  seeming  to  take  up 
all  the  spare  room  in  the  crowded  store,  stalked  out, 
the  door  closing  behind  him  with  a  bang. 

"  Dab  ain't  a  bad  sort  of  man,"  commented  Link 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  19 

Watkins  to  the  circle  around  the  stove.  "  But  he 
ain't  got  the  right  idees  'bout  religion.  He  don't 
take  it  ser'ous  enough.  Why,  I  seen  him  an'  the 
dominie  jest  laughin'  fit  to  split  over  in  his  office  this 
mornin',  and  I  horned  in  to  see  what  it  was  all 
about." 

"  What  was  it?  "  asked  Howe. 

"  It  was  a  story  Mr.  Blake  was  tellin',  an'  I 
thought  it  rather  scanci'lous  comin'  from  a  minister." 

"  I  didn't,"  interposed  Chet,  from  his  perch  on  the 
counter.  "  I  heard  it,  an'  it  made  me  laugh.  An' 
I  didn't  see  why  a  minister  shouldn't  tell  it.  I  ain't 
one  o'  them  that  thinks  just  because  a  man  buttons 
his  collar  behind,  he  ain't  human.  I  cal'late  the 
more  human  ministers  are,  the  better  servants  o'  the 
Lord  they  can  be.  Go  on,  give  it  to  'em,  Link,  an' 
let  'em  judge." 

"  You  tell  it,  Chet,"  insisted  Link.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  could  remember  all  o'  the  blamed  thing." 

"  Well,"  said  Chet,  "  it  was  about  a  sailor  who 
went  into  a  mission  meetin*  on  the  Bow'ry,  New 
York,  one  evenin'.  He  felt  he  was  sailin'  the  sea  o' 
life  in  a  leaky  ship,  an'  fast  driftin'  on  the  shoals  of 
iniquity,  an'  he  wanted  to  get  the  anchor  of  salva 
tion  down  in  the  harbor  of  repentance.  Well,  he 
heard  the  story  about  the  Crucifixion,  an'  how  it  was 


20  DABNEY  TODD 

the  Jews  that  did  it.  The  sailor  had  never  read  the 
New  Testament,  an'  it  was  all  new  to  him.  He  was 
so  struck  by  it  that  he  went  up  to  the  platform  an' 
got  converted  right  there." 

"  That's  likely  enough,"  commented  the  Deacon. 
"  If  we  hadn't  all  have  heerd  it  all  our  lives,  so  that 
we're  kinder  used  to  it,  I  reckon  we'd  hustle  up  to 
be  converted,  too." 

"  Well,"  continued  Chet,  "  after  he'd  had  quite 
a  talk  with  the  minister,  an'  promised  to  come  again 
to  another  meetin',  he  went  outside.  He  wasn't 
more'n  a  block  away  from  the  mission  house,  thinkin' 
of  what  he'd  heard,  when  a  man  that  he  could  see 
was  a  Jew  come  walkin'  along,  'tendin'  to  his  own 
business  an'  not  takin'  any  notice  of  any  one.  Well, 
what  does  the  sailor  do  but  haul  off  an'  bust  the  Jew 
on  the  jaw,  knockin'  him  flat." 

"  What  did  he  do  that  fer?  "  asked  Titus  Showell, 
deeply  interested. 

'  That's  what  the  Jew  asked  the  sailor,"  replied 
Chet.  "  'What  did  I  do  it  for?'  says  the  sailor. 
*  Why,  you  dirty  dog,  you  killed  Christ,  an'  Christ 
stood  for  the  brother  o'  man.  He  wanted  every 
body  to  love  their  neighbor  like  themselves,  an'  if 
any  blink-blank  son  of  a  gun  don't  do  it,  I'm  goin' 
to  prove  He  had  the  right  idea  by  handin'  'em  a 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  21 

swift  wallop.  They  either  got  to  love  their  neigh 
bors  or  fight  me,  see?  Git  away  or  I'll  paste  you 
again ! '  " 

There  were  some  solemn  nods  as  Chet  finished 
the  story  and  went  on  with  his  work.  At  last  Link 
Watkins  remarked,  in  a  tone  of  triumph: 

"There  you  are!  Ain't  that  a  goshawful  story 
for  a  minister  to  tell?  I  don't  quite  see  into  it,  but 
I  don't  think  it's  right  for  any  one  who  preaches 
from  a  pulpit  ever  to  talk  about  a  man  bein'  busted 
on  the  jaw.  It  don't  sound  Script'ral  to  me." 

"  Mebbe  not,"  said  Chet,  contemplatively,  "  but  it 
seems  to  kind  of  show  what  a  mis'able  mess  people 
make  of  applyin'  the  principles  they're  taught.  It's 
a  good  knock  at  intolerance,  all  right,  an'  that's  what 
the  minister  meant  to  illustrate  by  it  —  I  heard  him 
say  so,  himself.  I  guess  he  knew  what  he  was  up 
to,  all  right,  when  he  sprung  it." 

Came  a  little  silence;  then: 

"  There's  several  things  I  don't  like  about  Mr. 
Blake,"  declared  Deacon  Howe,  smoking  gravely. 

"  Wa'al,"  rejoined  Link,  "  as  Dabney  Todd  said 
jest  now,  you  had  most  to  do  with  bringin'  him  here. 
You  an'  the  other  officers  of  the  church  can't  blame 
nobody  else  if  he  ain't  what  you  thought  he'd  be." 

"  We    ain't    blamin'    nobody,"    was    the    retort. 


22  DABNEY  TODD 

"  On'y  I'll  say  this  —  that  I  didn't  bargain  for  none 
o'  these  new  contraptions  in  the  choir.  We  allers 
got  along  before  with  singers  out  o'  the  congrega 
tion  to  go  up  there  an'  render  the  music  called  for 
by  the  prayer-book,  an'  to  sing  the  hymns  as  they 
had  ought  to  be  sung.  Now,  we  got  a  quartette, 
an'  them  four  folks  takes  all  the  singin'  out  of  our 
mouths.  I  don't  want  no  one  to  praise  the  Lord 
for  me." 

"  No  one  tries  to  prevent  you  singin'  if  you  want 
to,"  protested  Chet,  straightening  up  to  his  full  six 
feet  two.  "  We  people  in  the  choir  don't  aim  to  do 
more  than  lead.  That's  what  Mr.  Blake  said  when 
he  asked  me  to  sing  tenor,  and  he  told  the  same  thing 
to  Pop  Jayne  an'  Myrtle  Lewis." 

"An'  Nance  Pelot,"  put  in  Martin  Doover,  a 
burly  individual,  nearly  as  tall  as  Chet,  and  some 
twenty  pounds  heavier.  "  Why  didn't  you  mention 
Nance?" 

There  was  an  unpleasant  grin  on  the  broad, 
weather-beaten  countenance  of  Doover,  and  most  of 
those  about  the  stove  shifted  uneasily  in  their  seats. 

"  If  you'd  give  me  time,  Martin,  I  was  goin'  to 
mention  Nance  Pelot,"  replied  Chet,  looking 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  the  other.  "  She  is  in  our 
quartette,  an'  she's  a  splendid  young  lady." 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  23 

"Sure  she's  splendid!"  chuckled  Martin.  "I 
heerd  her  sing  that  duet  with  you  last  Sunday,  an', 
by  gum,  you  looked  at  her  as  if  you  c'd  eat  her 
alive  when  she  dumb  to  that  highest  note  without 
squealin'." 

"  That's  enough,  Martin !  "  warned  Chet. 

"  Oh,  I  dunno.  I  reckon  we  hez  a  right  to  talk 
about  the  choir,  so  long's  we're  puttin'  our  money  in 
the  plate  every  Sunday,  an'  helpin'  to  keep  it  up. 
'Sides,  I  ain't  said  nothin'  that  ain't  compl'ment'ry. 
You  sing  tenor  like  that  feller  I  heerd  in  the  minstrel 
show  this  winter.  Old  Pop  Jayne  makes  a  good 
stagger  at  the  bass,  an'  Myrtle  Lewis  has  a  —  what 
d'ye  call  it?  —  a  contralto,  that  is  sure  some  singin'. 
In  course,  Myrtle's  a  little  flighty  —  allers  staring 
about  th'  church,  with  a  half-laugh  on  her  face. 
You  ought  to  tell  her  'bout  that,  Chet.  It's  oncom- 
mon  noticeable,  with  her  standin'  up  there,  right  be 
hind  the  preacher." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  see  nothin'  wrong  with  Myrtle,"  put 
in  Tite  Showell.  "  She's  young;  she's  at  the  gigglin' 
age;  she  ain't  got  to  the  gruntin'  age  yet.  Youth 
will  have  its  way.  Young  folks  ain't  like  us,  you 
know.  We're  always  talkin'  about  our  ailments  an' 
sorrows;  young  folks  has  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  joys 
o'  life.  Myrtle's  young,  an'  young  folks  is  sup- 


24  DABNEY  TODD 

posed  to  laugh,  even  when  they's  nothin'  to  laugh  at. 
It  keeps  'em  young.  Laughin'  an'  good  temper  is 
what  wipes  birthdays  off  the  calendar  'fore  they  can 
strike  in." 

"  It  ain't  only  Myrtle,"  persisted  Martin. 
"  They's  Nance  Pelot.  She's  allers  smilin'  in 
church,  'specially  when  she  looks  at  Chet." 

"  Well,  what  of  it?  "  snapped  Chet. 

"  On'y  that  there's  them  as  thinks  Nance  Pelot 
oughtn't  to  be  in  the  choir  at  all,  considerin'  the  sky- 
larkin'  she's  been  suspected  of  and  what's  been  said 
about  her,  an' — " 

He  got  no  further.  For  the  second  time  that 
afternoon  Chet  Todd's  brush  thudded  on  the  floor, 
with  a  bang  that  brought  all  the  gossipers  up  stand 
ing. 

Something  almost  electrical  snapped  in  the  air. 
When  Chet  spoke  the  words  came  like  rifle  shots. 

"  Don't  you  say  that,  Martin!  " 

Chet's  eyes  held  his  in  strange  fascination.  The 
blue  sparks  blazing  there  blanched  Martin's  cheeks; 
and  his  loose,  weak  mouth  relaxed. 

"  Don't  say  it,  I  tell  you !  " 

Chet  Todd  was  his  father's  son.  In  repose  the 
likeness  was  not  so  noticeable ;  but  standing  there  on 
the  counter,  his  head  thrust  forward  and  his  body 


THE  DIE  IS  CAST  25 

tensed,  he  was  Dabney  all  over.  The  smile  had 
gone  and  the  iron  was  at  the  surface. 

"  I  just  want  to  tell  you,  Martin  Doover,  that 
Nance  Pelot  is  a  good  girl !  You  an'  the  other  nar 
row-minded  bigots  of  this  town  who  go  around 
throwin'  mud  at  a  girl  because  she  ain't  your  kind 
an'  has  sense  enough  to  keep  her  business  to  herself, 
instead  o'  lettin'  you  and  your  pack  of  she-wolves 
paw  it  to  pieces  —  well,  you  ain't  good  enough  to 
clean  her  shoes  —  an'  it  ain't  goin'  to  be  healthy  for 
nobody  to  say  a  word  about  her  where  I  can  hear 
'em.  All  this  scandal  an'  gossip  has  got  to  stop, 
you  hear  me?  The  less  brains  a  man  or  woman's 
got,  in  this  town,  the  more  they  talk,  seems  like.  It's 
the  same  as  empty  barrels  makin'  more  noise  than 
full  ones,  or  empty  carts  rattlin'  loudest  along  the 
road.  Now,  Doover,  you  know  what's  what.  Git 
out!" 

"  I  warn't  sayin'  nothin',"  protested  Martin  sul 
lenly.  "  That  is,  not  more'n  — " 

"  Git!  Go  now,  or  you  won't  be  able  to  go,"  and 
Chet,  jumping  down  from  the  counter,  confronted 
him. 

Cowed,  Martin  slouched  away  at  what  was,  for 
him,  rather  a  swift  pace,  and  headed  for  his  father's 
farm,  a  good  two  miles  out  of  the  village. 


26  DABNEY  TODD 

Chet  watched  him  as  he  plodded  along  through 
the  mud  and  rain.  There  was  a  fine  determination 
in  his  eyes,  but  his  heart  was  sad.  Too  well  he 
knew  how  soon  the  tale  would  be  all  over  the  village. 

Not  that  he  cared  much,  after  all.  To-day  the 
clash  had  come,  as  he  had  determined  it  should, 
sooner  or  later.  The  insult  had  been  spoken  and 
had  been  flung  back  in  Doover's  teeth.  Yes,  and 
Chet  thrilled  with  joy  at  knowledge  that,  had  not 
prompt  withdrawal  been  forthcoming,  the  issue 
would  have  been  settled  by  gauge  of  battle.  But 
Nance !  Nance  —  would  she  understand  ?  Would 
she  realize  the  situation? 

In  God's  name,  why  couldn't  these  country  gossips 
and  backbiters  let  her  alone  ? 


CHAPTER  II 

NANCE   PELOT 

THE  rain  dripped  with  a  mournful  sob  from 
the  rusty  eaves  of  the  little  brown  down- 
at-the-heel  place  which  served  as  a  rectory 
for  New  Canaan's  old-fashioned  Episcopal  Church. 

The  church  itself  had  been  standing  more  than 
a  hundred  years,  and  the  traditions  thereof  were  as 
old  as  the  building.  True,  these  traditions  were 
cherished  by  the  elder  people,  rather  than  the 
younger.  The  pastor  was  expected  to  be  conserva 
tive.  The  former  rector,  in  fact,  had  been  wor 
ried  out  of  the  church  and  village,  because,  as  Spen 
cer  Howe  and  others  of  his  generation  put  it,  "  the 
dominie  catered  too  much  to  the  young  folks."  And 
to-day,  with  the  storm  pelting  down,  Blake  —  the 
new  minister  —  sat  there,  in  his  damp,  box-like 
study,  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  rather  tired  eyes, 
and  wondered  whether  it  all  was  worth  while. 

"  I  seem  to  have  been  called  to  a  barren  vine 
yard,"  he  murmured,  with  dejection.  "  How  great 

27 


28  DABNEY  TODD 

a  work  will  be  necessary,  here,  to  make  it  fruitful 
unto  the  Lord!  " 

The  discouragements,  the  ever-recurring  objec 
tions  to  his  way  of  doing  things,  and  the  small,  in 
tangible  results  of  his  labors,  had  already  lined  his 
face,  after  only  his  first  six  months  in  New  Canaan. 

Born  and  bred  in  the  city,  its  impress  was  upon 
him,  and  New  Canaan  seemed  to  him  as  a  new  world 
—  a  world  in  which  the  ideals  and  desires  of  those 
he  loved,  and  in  whose  footsteps  he  had  so  humbly 
tried  to  follow,  were  alien. 

The  senseless  bickerings  over  nothing,  the  bitter 
prejudices  and  cruel  narrowness  of  his  people  ap 
palled  him. 

The  business  of  the  church  called  him  forth;  but 
whether  the  gloomy,  foreboding  day  had  saddened 
him,  or  whether  the  tension  of  his  fiber  was  begin 
ning  to  let  down,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  leave 
the  rectory. 

Undecided  what  to  do,  he  got  up  and  peered  out 
into  the  rain.  Standing  at  the  doorway,  his  smile 
failed  him.  He  flung  himself  dejectedly  into  the 
chair  by  the  window,  once  more. 

Well  along  in  years,  with  hair  graying  at  the  tem 
ples  and  with  rather  a  thin,  pensive  face,  he  made 
a  most  pathetic  figure,  slouched  down  there.  How 


NANCE  PELOT  29 

long  he  sat  thus  he  failed  to  realize.  'But  in  the 
end  a  quaint  sort  of  contentment  and  a  new  resolve 
shone  in  his  eyes;  and  Blake,  because  he  was  as  good 
as  the  doctrine  he  preached,  knelt  to  pray  for  guid 
ance  and  to  thank  Him  who  is  the  friend  of  those 
who  seek  Him. 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  cut  through  the  clouds ;  Blake 
saw  that  the  rain  had  stopped.  He  took  his  coat  and 
hat,  and  with  sudden  decision  left  the  rectory.  As 
he  pushed  his  way  along  the  water-soaked  road,  he 
smiled:  "Well,  perhaps  every  cloud  has  a  silver 
lining,  after  all!  " 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  a  voice  called  to  him 
from  the  porch  of  one  of  the  clean  white  dwellings 
which,  straggling  along  the  State  road,  gave  form 
to  the  village  of  New  Canaan. 

It  was  Nance  Pelot,  busy  repairing  the  damage  the 
storm  had  done  to  her  flowers. 

A  pretty  figure  she  made,  standing  knee-deep 
among  the  rain-beaten  blossoms.  Her  slim,  grace 
ful  figure,  her  hazel  eyes,  coiled  masses  of  hair  and 
vivid  mouth  sharply  distinguished  her  from  all  the 
other  girls  of  this  humdrum  little  village. 

Blake,  pushing  open  the  gate,  had  hardly  reached 
the  porch,  where  a  dripping  lilac  brushed  his  shoul 
der  and  sprinkled  water  drops  upon  his  cheek,  when 


30  DABNEY  TODD 

Nance  took  his  hand  and  gave  him  a  welcoming 
smile. 

"Why,  hello,  Mr.  Blake!"  she  cried.  "What 
an  afternoon  for  you  to  be  walking  around!  " 

"  I  was  just  making  a  few  calls,  Nance.  There's 
a  choir  rehearsal  this  evening,  and  I  wanted  to  make 
sure  Silas  Jayne  would  be  there.  We  couldn't  get 
along  without  him,  you  know,  so  I  went  to  ask  him." 

"  I  do  hope  he'll  go,"  said  Nance.  "  I  heard  this 
morning  he  had  a  wretched  cold." 

"  It's  nothing  serious,"  smiled  Blake.  "  He 
wheezed  for  my  benefit  once  or  twice  when  I  went  in. 
But  he  forgot  his  ailment  when  I  told  him  we'd  de 
cided  to  put  a  boy  choir  into  the  church.  He  was 
afraid  we  might  not  want  him  to  sing  any  more. 
For  the  moment  he  seemed  to  be  downright  worried, 
until  I  assured  him  that  we  would  keep  our  quar 
tette,  even  if  we  did  have  the  boys." 

"  Silas  Jayne  has  a  good  voice,  Mr.  Blake.  The 
only  trouble  is  that  occasionally  he  seems  to  lose 
control  of  its  volume,  and  startles  the  rest  of  us  with 
a  roar  that's  abysmally  deep,  and  drowns  us  all  out. 
It's  really  quite  dreadful  at  times,  even  if  it  does 
make  you  laugh." 

The  pout  with  which  Nance  Pelot  said  this  was 
pleasant  to  see,  Blake  thought.  She  was  good  to 


NANCE  PELOT  31 

look  at,  was  Nance.  He  found  the  bright  conver 
sation  and  the  half  irresponsible  outbursts  of  this 
full-blooded,  whole-hearted  girl  a  great  relief  after 
an  hour  with  Mrs.  Clarissa  Howe  and  others  of  her 
kind  —  a  ray  of  sunshine  amid  the  general  gloom 
and  dull  monotony  of  New  Canaan  society. 

Her  mother's  people  were  gentlefolk,  and  there 
was  an  unmistakable  air  of  culture  about  the  girl 
that  set  her  apart  from  the  others  in  the  village. 
Her  grandfather,  Warner,  and  his  grand  and  great 
grandfathers  before  him,  had  made  history  in  the 
olden  days.  The  patrician  face  of  Nance  was  a 
Warner  face,  and  the  warm  French  blood  of  her 
father's  people  had  given  color  and  dash  to  her  prim 
New  England  heritage. 

Nance  hung  up  Blake's  coat  and  hat  and  led  the 
way  into  the  sitting-room. 

"  Take  this  rocker,  Mr.  Blake.     You  look  tired." 

"  I  am  a  little  tired,  Nance,"  he  returned,  as  he 
sank  comfortably  into  the  well-cushioned  chair. 
"  But  I  can't  stay  long.  I  have  to  see  Mrs.  Cabot. 
She  is  a  dear  old  lady,  but  so  deaf  she  never  hears 
my  side  of  a  controversy.  She  always  manages  to 
miss  my  very  best  arguments." 

"There's  been  a  controversy,  then?"  asked 
Nance,  sitting  on  the  piano  bench.  "Doctrine?" 


32  DABNEY  TODD 

Sitting  there,  her  feet  swaying  back  and  forth  un 
consciously,  her  eyes  shining,  vibrant  and  intensely 
alive  with  magnificent  youth,  the  girl  formed  a  pic 
ture.  Her  full,  red  mouth  had  an  appealing  tilt  to 
it  that  won  you;  and  her  hair,  the  color  of  ripened 
wheat,  piled  up  seemingly  anyhow,  in  its  well-or 
dered  disorder  gave  an  almost  exotic  cast  to  the 
strong  features. 

The  trim  ankles  swinging  in  and  out  of  her  dainty 
skirt,  the  high-arched,  delicate  feet,  and  the  full 
rounded  figure  of  her,  made  Blake  wonder  if  New 
Canaan,  with  its  petty  tyrannies  and  gossip,  was  all 
this  strong,  unbridled  girl  was  to  have  for  her  por 
tion  in  life. 

The  thought  haunted  him.  Surely  Nance  was  not 
to  grow  old  and  wrinkled  at  thirty-five,  worn  out  with 
the  drudgery  that  took  the  happiness  out  of  so  many 
lives.  Surely  the  blood  of  her  race  would  cry  out 
in  her  for  the  good  things  of  life, —  the  refinements 
and  luxuries  that  Nance  herself  had  known  in  child 
hood.  The  memories  of  crowds,  big  cities,  wealth, 
ease,  do  not  fade  out  when  once  a  full-grown  girl 
has  envied  them. 

Blake  wondered,  as  he  watched  her,  how  this 
high-spirited  and  richly-endowed  girl  could  tolerate 
the  melancholy  mediocrity  of  the  country  village. 


NANCE  PELOT  33 

He  was  conscious  of  the  pause  in  the  conversation, 
and  felt  confused  as  he  found  the  girl's  eyes  ques 
tioning  him.  Hurriedly  he  continued: 

"  Doctrine  ?  No.  Not  exactly  —  although  in 
directly,  of  course.  It  was  about  music.  As  you 
know,  Mr.  Lester  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  a  boy  choir  in  surplice  and  cassock,  to  rein 
force  the  quartette,  would  add  to  the  interest  of  the 
service.  It  would  not  involve  any  departure  from 
the  authorized  ritual.  It  would  be  merely  an  elabo 
ration.  I  hold  that  we  should  praise  the  Lord  with 
the  most  perfect  ceremony  possible.  We  have 
Scriptural  warrant  for  that.  The  priests  of  the 
Temple  offered  their  sacrifices  with  the  emblazon 
ment  and  pomp  they  considered  due  to  the  glory  of 
the  Most  High.  Why  shouldn't  we  put  our  sing 
ers  into  symbolical  vestments,  and  give  them  a  golden 
cross  to  carry  as  with  triumphant  hymns  of  praise 
they  approach  the  altar?" 

"  But  Mrs.  Cabot  did  not  agree  with  you?  " 
"  Most  emphatically  not.  Mrs.  Clarissa  Howe, 
whom  I  had  seen  before,  also  doubted  whether  it 
would  be  exactly  proper.  But  her  husband  has  given 
me  his  word  he  will  not  oppose  the  boy  choir.  It's 
the  first  time  the  senior  warden  has  failed  to  ac 
cuse  me  of  trying  to  turn  the  church  into  a  place  of 


34  DABNEY  TODD 

amusement,  since  I  have  been  here.  It  broke  his 
heart  when  the  other  vestrymen  voted  him  down 
and  gave  the  church  a  real  organist.  Some  of  my 
people  think  Frank  Lester  is  an  emissary  from  the 
devil,  sent  here  for  their  special  damnation  — -  and 
when  they  find  out  that  we  purpose  to  have  a  sur- 
pliced  choir  —  well,  it  will  just  about  clinch  the  mat 
ter  in  their  minds. 

"  But  I  want  to  tell  you,  Nance  " —  and  Blake 
showed  his  determination  for  the  first  time,  this 
afternoon  — "  I'm  going  through  with  it.  It's 
wrong  to  live  the  way  these  people  do.  God  isn't 
mean  or  narrow.  Fire  and  brimstone  belong  to  a 
past  age. 

"  The  hell  of  our  forefathers  has  been  laughed 
out  of  court  by  all  who  haven't  locked  the  door  of 
reason  and  thrown  away  the  key.  Infant  damna 
tion,  predestination,  eternal  punishment  and  an 
avenging  Deity  have  had  to  go.  Intolerance  be 
longs  to  an  age  of  ignorance.  It's  unchristian,  and 
I  am  going  to  make  them  see  it  the  right  way  —  or 
leave.  If  you  want  to  do  business  to-day  in  religion 
you've  got  to  make  it  attractive,  and  I'm  willing  to 
save  souls  if  I  have  to  go  out  and  advertise  to  do  it. 
This  is  just  between  you  and  me,"  he  added,  smiling. 

It  may  have  been  the  irony  of  fate,  or  pure  coin- 


NANCE  PELOT  35 

cidence  that,  as  if  in  answer  to  Blake's  ringing  words, 
the  kitchen  door  came  crashing  in,  and  a  dull  jar,  like 
the  sound  of  a  falling  body,  followed  it. 

Nance  jumped  to  her  feet.  Her  face  went  ashen, 
and  fright  gave  way  to  a  more  terrible  realization. 
Blake  sensed  the  truth.  Into  Nance's  eyes  came  the 
pitiful  look  that  hunters  see  in  the  great  eyes  of  a 
doe,  trapped  in  the  snow-crust.  Blake  turned  his 
head  away  as  she  left  the  room.  He  knew  it  would 
fatally  wound  her  if  he  seemed  to  notice,  or  offered 
her  his  help. 

On  the  kitchen  floor  lay  Joe  Pelot. 

The  village  drunkard  had  come  homel 


CHAPTER  III 

IDLE   TONGUES   AND   SHARP   ONES 

DABNEY  TODD'S  blooded  Holsteins  were 
tinkling  their  way  back  to  town  from  the 
pasturage,   under   the   leadership   of  little 
Davy  Quigg,  before  Nance  had  been  able  to  get  her 
father  washed  and  to  bed,  an  inert,  senseless  lump  of 
sodden  stupidity.     When  sober,  Joe  Pelot  was  harm 
less  and  good-natured,  even  though  inefficient  beyond 
all  hope  of  regeneration;  when  drunk  his  besotted 
inertia  would  have  made  angels  weep. 

Nance  was  nearing  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and 
oft-repeated  occurrences  of  the  kind  had  hardened 
her  against  the  physical  revulsion  drunkenness 
brings  to  most  women,  but  the  hurt  that  would  not 
heal  was  in  her  heart.  Though  her  teeth  gritted 
and  the  tears  that  came  to  her  eyes  were  only  tiny 
ones  that  clung  to  the  lids,  still  her  proud  head  was 
bowed.  A  great  fear  of  happiness  at  times  seized 
her.  This  day  had  been  only  a  day  similar  to 
many  that  had  gone  before.  Always  this  thing  that 

36 


IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES     37 

was  eating  her  heart  out  found  some  fresh  form  of 
insult  and  shame,  and  to-day  it  had  evidenced  itself 
before  the  minister. 

Dabney's  Holsteins  recalled  fleetingly  to  her  the 
fact  that  he  and  his  sons  were  making  the  money 
that  brought  blooded  cattle  and  many  other  forms 
of  prosperity  to  them,  in  the  same  little  shop  that 
her  father,  and  father's  father,  had  owned.  Some 
of  the  older  people  even  to-day  called  it  Pelot's 
Forge. 

The  forge  had  gone,  and  with  it  the  big  farm  it 
had  paid  for;  and  to-day,  dollars  —  dollars  as  pre 
cious  now  as  acres  had  been  years  ago  —  had  gone 
the  same  way. 

Anger,  too,  flared  in  the  girl's  heart  against  one 
who  either  maliciously  or  unwittingly  had  brought 
forth  this  fresh  relapse  on  her  father's  part.  Old 
Joe  Pelot  was  a  drunkard,  but  he  had  his  virtues. 
In  his  sober  moments  some  remnants  of  a  lost  re 
spectability  answered  Nance's  pleadings,  and  he  made 
at  least  a  half-hearted  effort  to  keep  away  from 
drink,  despite  the  insolent  jeers  of  boon  companions 
and  the  entreaties  of  those  who,  like  true  emissaries 
of  Satan,  always  seem  to  take  delight  in  dragging 
back  into  the  mire  all  who  strive  to  pull  themselves 
therefrom. 


38  DABNEY  TODD 

New  Canaan  was  too  small,  and  everybody's  busi 
ness  was  too  certainly  some  one  else's  business,  to 
give  Nance  courage  enough  to  try  concealing  all  of 
her  father's  weaknesses.  So  it  was  generally  known 
that  she  had  brought  him  back  from  Redburn  and 
had  opened  the  little  home  in  New  Canaan  largely 
because  she  had  believed  she  could  reform  him  — 
and,  like  most  of  us  who  profess  to  believe  in  the 
creed  of  that  Man  who  died  that  we  might  all  be 
saved,  her  neighbors  and  passing  acquaintances  never 
let  her  forget  her  task.  Nance,  because  there  was 
a  great  deal  of  the  thoroughbred  in  her,  never  shrank 
from  it. 

Fierce  resolve  glittered  in  her  eyes,  and  her  small 
hands  clenched  vengefully,  as  she  exclaimed: 

"  I'll  find  out  who  teamed  into  Redburn  to-day. 
There  weren't  many.  I  didn't  see  anybody  pass  this 
house.  But  I'll  ask  Chet.  He'll  know." 

She  had  her  supper  alone,  as  the  sun,  sinking  in  a 
ball  of  fire,  shot  its  golden  rays  into  the  little  sitting- 
room.  The  windows  were  open,  and  the  chattering 
of  birds  busy  about  their  preparations  for  the  night 
floated  in  to  her.  The  little  town  itself  was  con 
tentedly  going  about  its  business  in  a  genial  sort  of 
after-supper  glow. 

The  girl  felt  apart  from  it  all.     The  happiness 


IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES     39 

she  could  sense  in  a  chance  word  caught  here  and 
there  from  passersby  and  near  neighbors,  not  to 
mention  the  very  maternal  twitterings  of  a  sleek 
mother  bluebird  in  her  front  yard,  seemed  to  have 
parted  at  her  very  door  and  flowed  on,  leaving  her 
utterly  alone. 

The  room  itself  caught  the  girl's  attention,  and 
brought  a  heart-throb  of  its  own.  Something  from 
right  within  had  gone  into  the  making  of  that  little 
home.  It  was  to  have  been  the  foundation  for  her 
father's  rehabilitation. 

The  town  of  Redburn,  some  few  miles  away,  had 
always  offered  too  many  temptations  for  Joe  Pelot. 
For  this  reason  alone,  Nance  had  insisted  on  remov 
ing  to  New  Canaan.  The  home  they  had  lived  in, 
at  Redburn,  with  its  two  tiny  rooms,  and  with  her 
father  working  for  a  daily  wage,  held  nothing  but 
bitter  memories.  This  was  to  have  been  different. 
Nance  had  felt  so  surely  that  he  would  be  able  to 
have  his  own  little  business  here,  again.  That, 
somehow,  they  would  make  it  pay.  And  the  little 
home  was  to  have  been  so  full  of  happiness,  and 
faith,  and  love  that  they  just  couldn't  think  of  fail 
ure. 

The  dainty  white  curtains  Nance  had  made  with 
her  own  fingers.  The  pictures  were  of  her  own 


40  DABNEY  TODD 

choosing  —  and   the   piano  —  oh !   the   saving   and 
the  planning  to  make  it  possible ! 

And  now,  the  stern  little  bronze  Wagner  glaring 
down  at  her  from  its  place  above  the  piano,  seemed 
to  ask  if  this  was  to  be  the  end.  Was  hope  to  be 
snatched  away  from  her  now  in  the  full  glow  of  her 
youth?  Why  did  fate  seem  to  pursue  and  torture 
her,  who  only  wanted  to  be  like  other  girls? 

There  was  none  to  answer,  and  her  throbbing 
heart  beat  against  the  walls  of  its  prison. 

Minutes  lagged  by,  until  the  sound  of  the  gate 
swinging  open,  and  the  quick  step  of  some  one  com 
ing  up  the  gravel  walk  sent  a  flush  to  her  face.  The 
hearty  ring  of  a  boyish  "  Hello,  Nance!  "  found  her 
big,  tear-filled  eyes  smiling  a  little. 

The  visitor  felt  enough  at  home  to  come  in  with 
out  waiting  for  further  invitation.  It  was  Chet 
Todd,  in  his  "  Sunday  best,"  and  not  anywhere  nearly 
as  comfortable  as  he  had  been  while  painting  Link 
Watkins'  ceiling. 

Chet,  despite  the  rough-hewn  exterior  that  hid  his 
sterling  qualities,  made  a  fine  figure  of  a  man. 
Frank  blue  eyes  that  looked  at  you  with  honest 
directness,  capable  shoulders  and  strong  hands,  a 
well-raised  chin  and  somewhat  curling  brown  hair 


cap 


VJW;  r^^f^-' 


WHY    DID    FATE    SEEM    TO    PURSUE    AND    TORTURE    HER,    WHO 
ONLY  WANTED   TO   BE   LIKE   OTHER   GIRLS? 


IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES     41 

distinguished  him  far  above  the  average  run  of  coun 
try  youth.  Now  there  was  an  eager  youthfulness  to 
him  as  he  stood  gazing  at  Nance,  and  the  big,  honest 
smile  that  made  him  "  Chet "  to  every  one  was  back 
again  in  its  accustomed  place. 

"  Say,  Nance !  "  he  cried.  "  You  want  to  hurry 
up.  We're  late  now.  I  been  down  doin'  a  job  of 
paintin'  for  Link  Watkins  this  afternoon,, an'  had  to 
give  dad  a  lift  afterward  at  the  shop,  an'  I  want  to 
tell  you  I  ain't  been  sittin'  down  none  since  I  got 
home.  Took  me  'bout  as  long  to  get  the  paint  off 
myself  as  it  did  to  get  it  on  Link's  ceiling." 

Chet  stopped,  out  of  breath.  Nance  felt  cheered 
in  spite  of  herself.  There  was  something  contagi 
ous  about  Chet's  enthusiasm,  even  though  his  speech 
was  rough  at  times,  and  strictly  to  the  point. 

Nance,  who  had  greeted  Chet  with  all  the  courage 
at  her  command,  put  on  her  hat  and  began  sorting 
over,  in  a  half-hearted  way,  the  music  they  were  prac 
ticing  for  the  following  Sunday. 

As  Chet  followed  her  with  his  eyes,  he  suddenly 
became  conscious  of  her  strained  manner,  and  his 
hands  clenched  unknowingly.  Some  one  had  told 
her  about  Martin  Doover. 

He  crossed  the  room  to  Nance's  side,  caught  the 


42  DABNEY  TODD 

hand  that  held  the  music,  and  swung  her  around  until 
she  faced  him.  One  look  at  her  confirmed  his  sus 
picions. 

"  Say,  Nance !  "  he  cried,  his  face  convulsed  with 
anger,  "  they  ain't  no  one  said  nothin'  to  you,  has 
they?  They  ain't  no  one  tried  to  shame  you?  " 

The  suddenness  of  it  surprised  her,  so  that  the 
music  went  tumbling  to  the  floor. 

Seconds  passed  before  Nance  could  find  an  an 
swer. 

"Why,  Chet  Todd,"  she  stammered.  "Have 
you  lost  your  mind?  There's  a  mad  look  in  your 
eye." 

"  No,  I  ain't  lost  my  mind,"  he  returned.  "  I 
ain't  lost  my  mind,  an'  I  ain't  half  as  mad  as  I  might 
be.  But  I  know  something's  happened  to  you.  You 
don't  look  that  way  when  they  ain't.  What's  the 
matter?  You  can  tell  me  anythin',  everythin' — you 
know  that,  don't  you?  What  is  it?  " 

Nance's  lip  quivered  as  she  answered:  "My 
father—" 

"Your  father?"  There  was  relief  in  Chet's 
voice. 

"Your  father?  Some  one's  gone  an'  got  him 
loaded  again,  eh?  Who  was  it,  Nance?  " 

She  was  nearer  to  real  tears  now  than  she  had 


IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES     43 

been  all  afternoon.  Compelled  to  stand  alone,  she 
was  capable  of  it.  Looking  now  into  Chet's  eyes, 
she  saw  kindness  and  friendship  there,  and  her 
woman's  intuition  told  her  she  was  not  quite  alone. 
Also,  womanlike,  now  that  she  felt  that  she  had 
some  one  to  lean  on  the  least  bit,  she  wanted  to  cry. 
The  cherished  human  desire  that  is  in  all  of  us,  to 
have  some  one  to  confide  in,  all  but  overpowered  her. 

Chet  felt,  in  some  vague  way,  her  thought. 

"  Don't  you  mind,  Nance,"  he  consoled  her. 

"  Well,  I  do  mind,"  she  managed  to  answer. 
"  It's  the  first  time  in  three  weeks.  He  was  trying 
this  time,  Chet.  You  —  you've  been  more  than 
kind." 

"  Shucks !  I  ain't  kind.  I'd  do  anything  for  you, 
Nance." 

"  I  believe  that,"  she  answered,  looking  thought 
fully  down  upon  the  sheets  of  music  on  the  floor. 
"  There  isn't  anything  we  can  do  about  it  now.  You 
don't  know  whether  anybody  went  to  Redburn  to-day 
with  a  team?  I  mean,  anybody  of  that  kind,  you 
know  —  anybody  that  would  do  such  a  villainous 
thing  as  —  as  lead  my  father  into  temptation." 

"  Only  one  person  that  I  know  of,"  replied  Chet. 
"  It  looked  as  if  it  was  goin'  to  be  a  hard  rain,  an' 
it  scared  'em  all  except  one  man." 


44  DABNEY  TODD 

"Who  was  he?" 

"  Martin  Doover.  I  mean  young  Mart.  He 
went  down  with  a  load  o'  potatoes,  an'  got  back  early 
in  the  afternoon.  I  seen  him  later  at  Watkins'  store, 
after  he'd  been  home  an'  put  his  team  away.  He 
told  me  he'd  been  to  Redburn." 

"  Did  he  stop  at  my  father's  shop?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  did.  Old  man  Howe  seen  them 
talkin'  together  before  he  come  into  the  store.  They 
were  in  the  back  of  the  shop,  behind  a  wagon,  an'  he 
'lowed  they  seemed  to  have  some  confidential  things 
to  say  to  each  other." 

It  was  all  becoming  very  clear  to  Chet.  Know 
ing  Martin's  breed,  the  signs  were  unmistakable. 

"Was  my  father  —  himself?" 

"  He  didn't  say  nothin'  about  that.  But  I  know 
he  was  workin'  in  the  shop  right  after  dinner.  I 
seen  him  shoein'  Paul  Cuddeback's  drivin'  horse  be 
fore  I  went  in  to  Watkins's.  So  I  reckon  he  was 
all  right.  You  can  bet  your  life  on  it,  Nance,  Mar 
tin  Doover  is  to  blame  this  time." 

Chet's  score  with  Martin  weighed  heavily. 

Time  had  flown  and  the  choir  rehearsal  had  been 
quite  forgotten,  until  the  outer  door  to  the  porch 
burst  open,  and  a  girl  of  about  eighteen  came  breez 
ing  into  the  hall,  and  thence  to  the  sitting-room. 


IDLE  TONGUES  AND  SHARP  ONES     45 

"  Come  on,  you  folks !  We've  been  waiting 
twenty  minutes  now.  Ready,  Nance?  How  do  you 
do,  Chet?  I  reckoned  I'd  find  you  here." 

It  was  Myrtle  Lewis,  the  contralto  of  the  quar 
tette,  and  the  significant  giggle  which  accompanied 
her  last  sentence  made  Chet  turn  scarlet  at  once. 

"Shucks!  Myrtle!"  he  stammered.  "I  ain't 
no  more  likely  to  be  here  than  some  place  else.  I 
jest  came  in  to  try  over  my  duet  with  Nance." 

"  I  didn't  hear  any  singing  as  I  came  on  the 
porch,"  remarked  Myrtle.  "  You  must  have  been 
doing  it  pianissimo.  Ah!  Here's  Nance,  at  last!  " 

Together  they  all  walked  down  to  the  church. 
Nance,  now  quite  herself  again,  gave  no  hint  or  sign 
of  the  grief  corroding  her  heart.  Chet,  through  all 
his  sorrow  for  her,  could  not  help  sensing  keen  ad 
miration  of  her  fortitude. 

After  the  rehearsal  Chet  and  Nance  walked  home 
together,  and  the  young  spring  moon,  peeping  over 
the  treetops  sometime  later,  found  them  still  at 
Nance's  gate.  Youth  takes  a  long  time  to  say  good 
night,  and  whatever  it  was  that  they  said  to  each 
other  matters  not.  But  Nance,  as  she  closed  her 
eyes  that  night,  found  the  little  star  of  hope,  which 
turns  the  grayest  of  days  into  bright  ones,  still  shin 
ing. 


CHAPTER  IV 

NEEVEY   TODD 

CHET  had  been  in  such   a  hurry  to  dress, 
and  to  see  Nance,  that  he  had  got  away 
from  the  supper  table  before  his  father  had 
come  home. 

When  Dabney  Todd  did  get  in  to  supper,  he  was 
confronted  with  a  blaze  of  variegated  color  at  the 
other  side  of  the  table  that  made  him  blink.  It  was 
a  new  silk  waist  worn  by  the  lady  who  had  been  the 
sharer  of  his  joys  and  sorrows  for  nearly  thirty-five 
years,  Minerva  Middleton  Todd.  Plump  and  good- 
humored  was  Minerva,  with  cheeks  ruddy  as  apples, 
kindly  blue  eyes  —  eyes  like  Chet's  —  behind  spark 
ling,  gold-bowed  glasses,  and  a  smile  so  cheery  that 
it  could  melt  to  softness  even  the  most  vinegar- faced 
deacon  of  the  village  church. 

"  Sufferin'  snakes!"  ejaculated  Dabney,  eyeing 
his  spouse.  "  Where  did  ye  git  that  hoss-scarer, 
Neevey?  " 

46 


NEEVEY  TODD  47 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?"  she  demanded, 
coldly. 

"  Ain't  nothin'  th'  matter  with  it  s' fur's  I  know  — 
'cept  it  looks  like  it  might  catch  fire  if  anybody  was 
to  shake  hands  with  you  a  little  hard.  It's  surely  a 
hot  pattern."  Then,  with  an  air  of  conviction: 
"  Don't  take  no  fortune-teller  to  know  where  it  come 
from." 

"Where?" 

"  That  there  Cash  Bailey  come  through  town  to 
day.  Stopped  to  have  his  horse  shod.  I  seen  that 
thunder-an'-lightnin'  cross-bar  stuff  you're  wearin', 
on  his  wagon.  I  might  have  knowed  he'd  have  you 
totin'  some  of  it  around  afore  sundown." 

"DabneyTodd!" 

It  was  a  command. 

Dabney  knew  he  had  gone  far  enough.  So  he 
hastened  to  add,  with  strained  enthusiasm: 

"  It's  real  purty  at  that,  Neevey.  I'm  plumb  glad 
you  got  it.  Scotch,  ain't  it?  " 

Neevey's  red  face  broke  into  such  a  gratified  smile, 
that  her  husband  was  glad  he  had  admired  it. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "  It's  the  tartan  of  —  of 
some  clan.  I  don't  mind  jest  which  one.  Rob  Roy, 
or  Cameron,  or  Lindsay,  or  suthin'.  Anyhow,  it 
was  the  purtiest  in  the  wagon,  an'  I  picked  it  out  for 


48  DABNEY  TODD 

myself.  That  there  Cash  Bailey  is  a  right  smart 
young  feller.  I've  heard  tell  of  him  afore.  He's 
a  nephew  of  John  Bailey,  who  keeps  store  over  to 
Twelve  Corners.  Cash  said  these  colors  give  tone 
to  my  complexion.  It's  the  stylishest  thing  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  N'York." 

"  They's  certainly  style  about  it,"  murmured  Dab- 
ney.  "  It  ain't  like  nothin'  I  ever  seen  afore." 

"  Little  you  know  about  style,"  said  Minerva. 
"  What's  your  idee  of  it,  anyhow,  Dabby?  " 

"  Oh,"  answered  her  husband,  pensively,  "  I 
reckon  somethin'  cut  on  the  bias,  with  embroidered 
circingle,  tatted  holdbacks  an'  crocheted  tugs,  also  a 
velvet  basque  ruther  high  on  the  crupper,  would  be 
about  it.  Then  put  in  a  bolero,  with  scolloped 
slashin's  piped  with  plain  red  an'  yaller  insertion, 
an'— "• 

"  There,  there,  that'll  do !  "  interrupted  Minerva, 
reddening.  "  You  can't  make  sport  o'  me,  Dabby 
Todd!  I  can  git  along  all  right,  I  cal'late,  without 
none  o'  your  suggestions.  By  the  way,  Cash  told 
me  he'd  be  here  ev'ry  two  weeks  for  a  spell.  I'm 
goin'  to  buy  a  pair  of  pants  for  you  next  time  he 
comes." 

"Oh,  you  air?"  was  the  startled  response. 
"What  color  be  they?" 


NEEVEY  TODD  49 

"  Blue  —  robin's  egg  blue  —  with  a  black  stripe 
down  'em.  'Course  you'll  on'y  wear  'em  to  church 
an'  sociables  —  an'  maybe  when  you  have  an  auc 
tion." 

Minerva  Middleton  Todd,  despite  her  decided 
manner,  always  had  a  predominance  of  good  temper 
shining  in  her  broad,  healthy-hued  face  to  counter 
act  any  sternness  of  manner  which  might  seem  to 
leaven  her  disposition.  In  the  gorgeous  plaid  silk 
waist  she  was  flamboyant,  but  not  unattractive. 

"  'Pears  to  me,  Neevey,  you  git  younger  the  older 
you  are.  Now  you  have  that  blue  an'  red  an'  yaller 
on,  an'  your  hair  all  primped  up  in  them  wavy 
wrinkles  on  your  forehead,  you're  as  likely-lookin'  as 
any  young  gal  in  this  village.  If  I  didn't  know  you 
was  'most  as  old  as  me,  I'd  say  you  was  'bout  twenty- 
five." 

"  G'long,  Dabby !  I'm  an  old  woman,  with  two 
big  grown  men  for  sons,  an'  a  granddaughter.  I'll 
be  fifty-four  come  nex'  fall,  an'  I  ain't  aimin'  to  hide 
my  age,  nuther.  'Tain't  that  as  is  botherin'  me  jest 
now." 

"Is  anythin'  botherin'  ye?"  inquired  Dabney,  as 
he  accepted  a  hot  corn  muffin,  and  proceeded  to  flavor 
it  to  his  taste  with  butter  and  molasses.  "  I  notice 
ye  been  thinkin'  'bout  somethin'  'sides  yer  new  waist 


50  DABNEY  TODD 

all  through  supper,  an'  that  ain't  nat'ral,  'less  they's 
somethin'  on  your  mind." 

"  It's  about  Chet,"  she  confessed. 

"What  about  Chet?  Ain't  nothin'  wrong  with 
him's  I  see.  He  works  every  day  —  either  in  th' 
shop  or  outside.  He  painted  Link  Watkins's  store 
to-day,  and  worked  in  the  shop  afterward.  He  don't 
gad  aroun'  none,  an'  sence  he's  been  singin'  in  the 
choir  he  ain't  runnin'  off  to  Redburn.  Ain't  got  no 
time  to.  The  choir  practices  nigh  every  night." 

"  Yes,  an'  that's  jest  it.  When  he  practices  he's 
singin'  with  Nance  Pelot  —  always  Nance,  never  no 
body  else,  Dabby;  an'  afterwards  he  always  takes 
her  home." 

"  What  if  he  does?  At  his  time  o'  life,  when  all 
the  young  fellers  like  to  be  doin'  the  seein'-Nellie- 
home  racket,  I  don't  blame  him  none.  If  you'll  cast 
your  mem'ry  back  about  thirty-five  years,  or  some 
sech  matter — " 

"  That  ain't  the  p'int  at  all,  Dabby,"  Minerva 
interrupted  decidedly.  "  We're  talkin'  about  Chet, 
now.  As  I  was  sayin',  he  always  takes  Nance  to 
choir-rehearsals,  an'  afterwards  — " 

"  Of  course  he  sees  her  home,  an'  Nance  is  the 
finest-lookin'  gal  in  town,  at  that." 


NEEVEY  TODD  51 

Dabney  Todd  said  this  in  the  defiant  tone  of  one 
who  expects  argument,  but  is  prepared  to  uphold  his 
own  opinions. 

"  I  warn't  never  much  on  singin',  Neevey,"  he 
laughed.  "But,  gosh  all  hemlock!  I  slicked  up 
to  you  without  singin'.  Every  time  I  look  at  Chet 
an'  that  big  giant  of  an  Amos,  an'  think  o'  the  good 
times  an'  troubles  we  been  through  together, — well, 
I  ain't  never  felt  sorry  about  it,  an'  I  never  had  to 
thank  that  whiskered-up  old  he-bobcat  of  a  father 
of  yours  for  it,  nuther.  I  always  said  if  ever  I  had 
any  young  ones,  I  wouldn't  make  life  the  hell  on 
earth  for  'em  that  your  old  man  made  for  me." 

When  Neevey  was  particularly  moved  she  always 
had  to  cry.  Dabney  knew  the  signs  now  approach 
ing,  and  hastened  to  put  up  the  floodgates.  Getting 
up  from  the  table,  he  came  round  to  his  wife. 

"  Now,  now,  Neevey,"  he  coaxed,  "  I  didn't  mean 
nothin'— " 

"Go  'way!"  she  repulsed  him.  "Don't  you 
dare!" 

His  only  answer  was  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and 
give  her  a  resounding  smack  and  a  good  hug  which 
very  strongly  resembled  that  of  a  grizzly.  Then 
he  set  off  to  the  shop  where,  in  his  little  glassed-in 


52  DABNEY  TODD 

office,  he  spent  his  evenings,  toiling  over  his  books, 
a  corncob  pipe  for  company  and  a  comfortable  bank- 
balance  to  cheer  him. 

When  Neevey  Todd  had  washed  her  supper  dishes, 
she  put  on  her  new  spring  hat  —  the  hat  with  the 
violets  and  red  roses  —  draped  a  knitted  white  wool 
shawl  across  her  ample  shoulders,  and  went  over  to 
the  church. 

Myrtle  had  already  reached  it,  with  Nance  and 
Chet,  but  there  was  no  sound  of  singing  as  Neevey 
stopped  at  the  church  door.  She  hesitated  a  mo 
ment,  then,  pushing  it  open,  went  in  and  marched 
straight  up  the  center  aisle  to  the  railing  which  sepa 
rated  the  chancel  and  choir  gallery  from  the  pews 
for  the  congregation. 

Until  the  advent  of  the  new  rector  the  choir  had 
been  a  haphazard  affair,  with  anybody  crowding  into 
the  seats  who  thought  he  or  she  could  sing,  and  often 
without  any  idea  of  doing  so.  It  had  been  an  ex 
cellent  place  for  unobserved  flirtation.  Blake  had 
changed  all  that.  He  had  won  his  fight  for  a  regu 
lar,  paid  organist;  and,  with  a  lot  of  urging,  had 
persuaded  Frank  Lester  to  come  over  from  Red- 
burn  to  take  the  position.  Lester  soon  after  had 
induced  his  friend,  Carl  Meyer,  to  play  his  violin 
in  the  church  occasionally. 


NEEVEY  TODD  53 

The  people  of  New  Canaan  required  to  be 
"  jolted,"  to  arouse  their  interest  in  anything.  The 
violin  had  beyond  all  question  accomplished  that  re 
sult.  As  Clarissa  Howe  said,  it  sent  them  out  of 
church  "  with  their  teeth  chatterinV 

The  choir  now  had  become  an  accepted  part  of 
the  church,  and  Blake  and  Lester  had  whipped  it 
into  a  hard-working  organization.  Still  Neevey, 
pausing  at  the  doorway,  had  her  misgivings.  Her 
antipathy  to  Nance  took  root  in  several  ways. 

Chet  was  her  baby,  and  Neevey  had  very  definite 
ideas  concerning  the  girl  who  should  take  her  place 
in  his  life.  Not  quite  her  place.  No  mother  ever 
can  admit  two  things  —  first,  that  any  woman  in  the 
world  is  good  enough  to  marry  her  boy;  and  second, 
that  that  woman,  once  a  member  of  the  family,  can 
supplant  her.  Complete  abdication  in  favor  of  a 
wife  lies  quite  outside  the  imagination  of  mother 
hood. 

Though  she  hardly  admitted  it  even  to  herself, 
the  idea  of  Chet's  marriage,  at  all,  filled  her  with  a 
vague,  inchoate  dread.  It  seemed  only  one  more 
cross  to  be  borne.  Truly,  as  Dabney  had  said,  sor 
rows,  troubles  and  cares  had  not  passed  them  by. 
Privations  had  not  spared  them.  The  law  she  had 
laid  down  for  herself  was  not  less  stern  or  more  un- 


54  DABNEY  TODD 

compromising  than  the  creed  she  expected  others  to 
live  by.  Precious  little  she  had  not  sacrificed  that 
her  boys  might  get  ahead  —  that  Chet  and  Amos 
might  be  well  taken  care  of  when  Dabney  and  she 
passed  on.  The  little  luxuries  and  vanities  that  the 
young  women  of  her  time  indulged  in  she  had,  with 
Spartan-like  determination,  turned  from. 

The  need  of  privation  had  passed,  as  evidenced  by 
the  new  waist.  But  even  the  waist  would  be  laid 
away  and  treasured  for  special  occasions.  The 
truth  was  that  Neevey  had  denied  herself  so  long, 
that  her  indulgences  now  netted  her  but  little  happi 
ness. 

Hers  was  a  stern  code;  life  to  her  was  a  serious 
business.  The  eager,  bubbling  youth  of  Nance,  her 
freedom  of  convention,  her  communing  with  the 
birds  and  the  wild  things  of  the  woods,  her  city  ways 
and  her  different  sort  of  clothes,  were  to  Neevey, 
sacrilegious,  wanton  and  not  likely  to  be  the  means 
to  any  good  end.  Asked  to  state  definitely  a  single 
objection  to  the  girl,  Neevey  would  have  been  at  a 
loss  to  do  more  than  exhibit  her  aversion  and  dis 
like. 

Her  attitude  was,  in  reality,  only  the  unconscious 
and  unadmitted  jealousy  of  age  for  youth,  the  sus 
picion  of  the  passing  generation  for  that  which  comes 


NEEVEY  TODD  55 

—  the  same  spirit  that  Ibsen  so  trenchantly  portrays 
in  "  The  Master  Builder." 

An  honest  soul,  without  spitefulness  in  her  heart, 
she  was  never  consciously  unkind.  For  no  small 
consideration  would  she  have  given  Nance  a  needless 
hurt.  Though  Neevey  had  never  realized  it,  what 
had  turned  her  against  the  girl  had  been  her  over 
powering  fear  that  these  signs  of  wildness  and  prodi 
gality  would  surely  reap  their  harvest.  And  the 
mothersense,  within,  determined  her  to  keep  Chet, 
her  boy,  away  from  its  entangling. 

Chet's  mother  had  held  herself  above  the  petty 
gossip  of  her  neighbors.  Nevertheless,  she  knew 
that  Nance  had  evidenced  a  sort  of  friendship  for 
Larry  Shayne,  a  ne'er-do-well  who  had  been  mixed 
up  in  an  affair  with  a  girl  over  at  Twelve  Corners; 
and  that  she  had  been  seen  riding  with  him  and  one 
of  his  Redburn  cronies.  Larry  Shayne,  sleek,  self- 
willed  idler  that  he  was,  typified  all  that  Neevey  dis 
liked  most,  and  even  this  slight  friendship  had  served 
to  confirm  her  prejudices  regarding  Nance. 

In  a  way,  Neevey  was  justified  for  some  suspicions 
of  Nance,  if  —  as  it  seemed  —  the  girl  tolerated  any 
advances  from  Larry.  For  this  worthless  son  of  a 
vicious  father  was,  by  all  accounts,  one  of  the  most 
designing  rogues  who  ever  played  on  the  credulities 


56  DABNEY  TODD 

and  weaknesses  of  women,  or  spent  in  idle  wanton 
ness  the  earnings  of  his  father's  evil  business. 

Professor  Meyer  happened  to  be  tuning  his  in 
strument,  taking  no  heed  of  the  members  of  the 
choir  and  others  who  were  in  the  gallery,  as  Neevey 
entered  and  walked  to  the  chancel. 

"Mercy  on  me!"  she  ejaculated,  below  her 
breath.  "  That  fiddle  is  squeakin'  like  a  rusty  gate ! 
Why  don't  the  man  play,  if  he's  goin'  to?  An'  all 
them  folks  walkin'  about  in  front  of  the  organ, 
talkin'.  It's  like  the  County  Fair,  more'n  a 
church !  " 

Frank  Lester,  at  the  keyboard,  was  sorting  his 
music.  He  saw,  through  the  aid  of  the  mirror 
before  him,  that  a  strikingly-attired  lady  had  come 
up  to  the  chancel  rail,  and  turned  around  to  bow 
politely. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Todd.  Won't  you  take  a 
seat?" 

"  Thank  you.     If  I  ain't  intrudin'." 

"  Not  at  all.  We  are  pleased  to  have  the  mem 
bers  of  the  congregation  show  an  interest  in  our 
work." 

"  Humph!  I  see  some  of  the  choir  takes  a  pow'- 
ful  lot  of  int'rest  in  each  other,"  she  replied.  "  I 
don't  know  what's  got  into  that  boy  of  mine,  but 


NEEVEY  TODD  57 

he's  gurglin'  somethin'  all  day  long  fit  to  shame  a 
meadow  lark.  Seemed  to  me  'twas  'bout  time  I 
found  out  what  was  bewitchin'  the  big  calf.  Guess 
I  ain't  goin'  to  have  to  look  much  further,"  she 
added  to  herself,  peering  at  Chet,  who  was  bending 
over  Nance  Pelot  as  she  sat  on  one  of  the  seats,  her 
eyes  cast  down  upon  her  music. 

Chet's  back  was  to  the'  body  of  the  church,  and 
neither  he  nor  Nance  was  aware  of  the  presence  of 
his  mother. 

"  Now!  "  cried  Lester,  commandingly,  as  he  laid 
his  hands  upon  the  keyboard.  "  Let  us  have  that 
anthem!  Are  you  all  ready?  " 

The  members  of  the  choir  stood  up.  There  came 
a  little  buzzing  of  conversation,  among  the  youths 
and  maidens,  with  here  or  there  an  unsanctified  titter. 
The  organist  rapped  sharply  for  silence. 

"Order!"  cried  he. 

Nance  arose  to  her  feet.  She  and  Chet,  side  by 
side,  saw  Mrs.  Todd  at  the  same  moment. 

Chet  nodded  to  his  mother,  while  Nance's  face 
took  on  a  deeper  pink,  as  she  ventured  to  smile  at 
the  good  lady.  Neevey  did  not  respond  to  either. 
Arms  folded,  she  sat  stiffly  in  the  front  pew,  and, 
with  a  critical  expression,  prepared  to  listen  to  the 
singing  —  and  to  watch  Chet. 


58  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Benny!  "  called  out  the  organist.  "  Where  are 
you?"  Then,  louder:  "  Benny  Zepp  !" 

u  I'm  comin' !  "  piped  a  voice  from  the  back  of 
the  church.  "  What  d'yer  want?  " 

A  boy  about  eleven  years  of  age,  with  a 
turned-up  nose,  red  hair,  and  as  Neevey  expressed 
it,  half-audibly,  "  with  more  devilment  in  him  than 
most  boys  of  twice  his  age  ought  to  have,"  came 
shuffling  up  the  aisle.  He  stood  near  Neevey  and 
looked  up  at  Lester. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are!  "  exclaimed  Lester.  "  Get 
around  to  the  back  of  that  organ,  will  you?  You're 
holding  up  the  rehearsal." 

"  All  right !  "  the  boy  answered.  Then,  after 
taking  a  step  forward,  he  stopped,  as  if  something 
had  occurred  to  him. 

"Mr.  Lester!" 

"Well?"  returned  the  organist,  with  impatience. 
"  What  is  it?  "  He  swung  around  on  his  bench,  to 
ward  the  boy. 

"  I've  been  readin'  the  paper  that  Mr.  Blake  has 
printed  an'  put  in  the  pews  every  Sunday,"  and  he 
held  up  a  leaflet  Blake  distributed  each  Sabbath,  con 
taining  the  choir  program  and  a  synopsis  of  his  ser 
mon. 

"  What  about  it?  "  queried  Lester,  truculently. 


NEEVEY  TODD  59 

"  Oh,  hold  yer  hosses !  "  exclaimed  Benny,  in  so 
low  a  tone  as  to  be  heard  only  by  Neevey  Todd. 
"  You're  li'ble  to  ditch  yerself  if  you  r'ar  up  so 
rid'c'lous." 

"What  did  you  say?"  ejaculated  the  organist, 
who  knew  Benny  had  made  some  remark,  although 
he  could  not  hear  it.  "  Speak  up !  " 

"  I  said  I  wanted  my  name  down  as  assistant  or 
ganist.  Everybody  that  does  anythin'  reg'lar  here 
has  some  title  or  other,  an'  I  ain't  got  none.  I  don't 
think  that's  fair,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  stand  fer  it,  no 
how!1' 

A  cackle  of  laughter  broke  from  Professor  Meyer, 
which  was  echoed  by  a  loud  guffaw  from  Pop  Jayne. 
Lester  was  quite  serious,  however,  as  he  turned  upon 
the  boy. 

"You  go  and  pump  that  organ!"  he  ordered. 
"  That's  all  you  have  to  do." 

"  All?  Ain't  it  enough?  "  grumbled  Benny,  as  he 
walked  around  the  rail  to  the  chancel,  and  so  to 
ward  the  organ.  "  I  claim  that  I'm  assistant  or 
ganist,  an'  they  ain't  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  be  in 
the  church  paper,  same  as  you  an'  Professor  Meyer." 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  played  the  organ,"  snorted 
Lester.  "  Wait  till  you  know  how  to  do  that,  so 
that  you  can  help  me  sometimes,  and  you  shall  have 


6o  DABNEY  TODD 

your  name  printed  —  in  large  type.  Now  get  to 
your  work.  We  want  to  begin." 

"Then  I  ain't  the  assistant  organist?"  persisted 
Benny. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense !  " 

Benny  went  behind  the  organ,  but  not  to  work,  and 
Neevey  caught  his  mischievous  little  face  staring  out 
at  her.  It  was  quite  obvious  that  the  young  rascal, 
tired  of  being  constantly  reminded  of  his  menial  in 
feriority  and  jealous  of  the  organist's  commanding 
position,  had  declared  a  general  strike  in  the  pump 
ing  department. 

"  Now,  professor,  we'll  begin.  The  prelude !  " 
announced  Lester.  "  Start  with  me!  " 

He  placed  his  hands  on  the  keyboard  again,  and 
pressed  several  keys  for  a  resounding  chord.  But 
not  a  sound  came  from  the  organ.  Professor  Mey 
er's  violin  squeaked  out  thinly,  alone. 

"  What  the  — "  began  Lester,  violently.  "  Begin 
again,  professor!  " 

The  second  attempt  was  no  better  than  the  first. 
Lester  jumped  from  the  bench  and  ran  to  the  side 
of  the  organ.  Before  he  got  there,  Benny  Zepp  was 
out  in  the  open,  ready  to  dodge  the  enemy. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this,  you  —  you  young 
rebel?  "  roared  Lester. 


NEEVEY  TODD  61 

Benny  permitted  a  slow  smile  to  widen  his  mouth 
and  push  up  his  short  nose  a  little  higher  than  usual, 
as  he  piped: 

"  Am  I  the  assistant  organist?  " 

"  Assistant  nothing,  you  scoundrel !  "  spluttered 
Lester,  while  the  members  of  the  choir  tittered. 

"  You  can't  play  the  organ  without  me,"  persisted 
Benny.  "  If  I  ain't  there  to  pump  the  wind,  how 
much  music  can  you  git?  " 

"  You'll  get  more  music  than  you  want  if  you 
don't  go  and  do  your  work,"  retorted  Lester. 
"  You're  paid  for  pumping  the  organ,  aren't  you?  " 

"  Ten  cents  a  week!  "  squeaked  Benny.  "  'Tain't 
'nough.  I  want  more  money,  or  my  name  printed, 
same's  yours.  You  talk  about  your  'tistic  temper. 
Well,  I've  got  some  o'  that,  too.  I  reckon  if  a 
growed-up  man  can  have  a  big  temper,  a  kid  can 
have  a  little  one,  can't  he?  That's  fair,  ain't  it,  I'd 
like  to  know?  An'  I  want  twenty-five  cents,  or  you 
can  git  somebody  else  at  the  bellowses." 

Lester  regarded  the  little  tyrant  for  a  few  mo 
ments.  He  remembered  that  he  had  been  talking 
about  "  artistic  temperament,"  the  Sunday  before. 
Here  was  its  first  fruit!  He  knew  Benny  had  lis 
tened  and  been  impressed. 

"  I  knew  I'd  fetch  him,"  smiled  Benny,  pumping 


62  DABNEY  TODD 

like  a  fire-engine,  a  bright  new  quarter  lying  in  his 
pocket.  "  He  has  me  here  three  an'  four  nights  a 
week,  playin'  the  air  out  of  her  quicker'n  I  can  pump 
her  in,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  have  a  quarter,  or  bust  up 
the  choir !  " 

Something  of  a  crowd  had  dropped  in  before  the 
rehearsal  was  over.  No  one  was  more  surprised 
than  Neevey  when  Blake,  singling  her  out  from  Mrs. 
Howe  and  a  half-dozen  other  estimable  ladies,  of 
fered  her  his  arm,  and  quite  gallantly  started  home 
with  her.  There  were  others  at  the  door  who  had 
anticipated  that  compliment;  wherefore  Neevey,  flat 
tered  into  forgetting  all  her  worries,  took  some  pains 
to  bid  each  of  them  individually  a  knowing  good 
night.  Such  is  woman ! 

Blake,  able  strategist  that  he  was,  could  see 
trouble  a  long  way  off;  but,  even  for  him,  his  cap 
ture  of  Neevey  to-night  savored  of  real  art. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    WOLF'S    BREED 

SQUINT-EYED,  heavy-jawed,  smiling  Barney 
Shayne  had  a  reputation  for  giving  people 
just  what  they  wanted,  and  for  not  asking 
questions.  Particularly  the  latter.  People  that  did 
business  with  Barney  Shayne  had,  for  the  most  part, 
a  particular  aversion  to  questions.  They  well  re 
alized  that  the  prying  activities  of  busybodies  in  a 
small  community  never  observed  union  hours,  but 
might  at  any  time  of  day  or  night  circulate  ugly 
truths  about  them.  Barney's  great  and  growing 
success  depended  largely  upon  his  tact  in  never  an 
swering  questions  —  or  asking  them. 

It  was  a  far  cry  from  the  mean  little  groggery  in 
which  Barney  had  made  his  humble  start  to  the  gilded 
Seneca  Inn,  where  he  held  forth  this  Saturday  night. 
His  squinty  smile  had  followed  him  through  his 
varied  career,  and  had  paid  him  well.  But  if  one 
looked  closely,  you  could  see  that  the  smile  began 
and  ended  in  the  eyes.  It  got  no  nearer  its  owner's 

63 


64  DABNEY  TODD 

heart.  Prosperity  had  cloaked  the  hamlike  fists  and 
bull  neck  with  a  seeming  harmlessness.  But  those 
who  knew  could  tell  you  differently.  Barney  Shayne 
was  a  man  with  the  brakes  on. 

There  had  been  a  time  years  back,  before  his 
heart  had  become  a  chunk  of  ice,  when  a  smiling- 
faced  little  woman,  Larry's  mother,  had  found  a 
great  deal  to  love  and  admire  in  the  head  of  the 
house  of  Shayne.  To-day,  on  rare  occasions,  when 
mellow  with  drink,  Barney  Shayne  allowed  his  soul 
to  commune  with  itself,  and  surely  and  truly  it  lined 
straight  back  to  the  little  home  of  other  days  — 
Larry's  mother  waiting  at  the  gate  and  Barney  him 
self  coming  up  the  road,  his  dinner-pail  on  his  arm 
and  the  grime  of  the  mills  on  his  hands. 

But  what  was  the  use? 

The  little  corner  saloon  had  given  way  to  a  finer 
one.  This  to  another  larger  still  —  and  then  poli 
tics.  .  .  .  Here  was  a  man's  game!  And  because 
he  had  been  so  successfully  grafted  upon,  without 
questioning  the  why  of  it,  he  found  it  easy  to  graft 
on  others,  adding  thereto  an  artistic  touch  of  his 
own.  If  any  little  job  of  particular  neatness  and 
dispatch  had  to  be  done  in  the  matter  of  buying  or 
selling  a  franchise,  Barney  had  his  finger  in  the  pub 
lic  pie.  No  election  could  be  put  through  success- 


THE  WOLF'S  BREED  65 

fully  without  his  invaluable  and  skillful  aid.  No 
town  official  sat  safe  in  office  without  the  security  of 
some  prop  or  other,  leaning  on  Barney's  friendship 
and  patronage.  In  fine,  the  community  was  his 
oyster,  to  be  opened  by  him  as  he  saw  fit. 

There  were  those  of  his  henchmen  who  said  he 
could  have  anything  he  wanted  in  Redburn;  and 
though  the  ways  were  devious,  the  end,  with  its  cer 
tain  results,  found  them  speakers  of  true  words. 

To-night  there  was  a  line  three  deep  in  the  bar 
room.  An  odor  of  stale  beer-slops  and  perspiring 
bodies  filled  the  place.  From  the  cafe  the  thump- 
thump-thump  of  a  piano  and  the  wheezy  syncopation 
of  a  fiddle,  pierced  now  and  then  by  the  shrill,  nervous 
laughter  of  young  girls  —  and  older  ones.  And, 
keeping  time  with  it  all,  sounded  the  steady  drag- 
drag  of  slurring  feet  gliding  over  the  polished  floor. 

The  cash  registers  were  singing  a  merry  little  tune. 
Barney,  with  his  profoundly  Oriental  oiliness,  was 
grinning  like  a  fat  Chinese  Buddha.  Out  in  the 
lobby  of  the  hotel  the  incandescents  burned  in  a  haze 
of  blue  smoke.  And  there,  leaning  against  the  cigar- 
stand,  was  Larry  Shayne,  cultivating  two  strangers. 
By  the  look  of  it,  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  succeed  in 
gaining  their  friendship.  But,  had  he  been  gifted 
with  second  sight,  he  would  have  seen  that  the  busi- 


66  DABNEY  TODD 

ness  under  hand  might  well  have  called  for  the  as 
sistance  of  that  older  and  abler  strategist,  Shayne 
senior. 

Larry's  unsteady  eyes  wandered  from  the  one  to 
the  other,  as  he  milled  over  the  conversation  in  his 
mind.  It  was  so  absurdly  simple,  this  idea  of  theirs, 
that  he  should  buy  for  them  a  little,  straggling,  rock- 
strewn  farm,  which  had  lain  idle  for  years,  the  build 
ings  on  it  falling  apart,  desolate,  grim  and  de 
serted. 

And,  too,  their  idea  of  giving  Redburn  a  country 
club  and  a  golf  course  particularly  appealed  to  him. 
Lucky  for  old  Joe  Pelot  that  some  one  wanted  it 
for  something!  Even  an  insane  man  wouldn't  have 
tried  to  farm  it.  Maybe  it  would  make  a  country 
club,  the  boy  opined  to  himself,  lying  there  as  it  did, 
along  the  lake.  But  wait  until  the  wind  should  blow 
from  the  south,  and  the  brackish  swamp  that  fol 
lowed  the  southern  boundary  of  the  farm  should 
send  its  bitter,  acrid  smell  rolling  up  to  their  club 
house.  Well,  he  should  worry ! 

Naturally,  old  Joe  would  demand  a  fabulous  price 
for  it,  if  he  should  come  to  know  what  it  was  wanted 
for.  The  only  way  to  go  about  the  business  would 
be  to  approach  the  old  man  in  some  casual  manner 
calculated  not  to  awaken  the  cupidity  of  a  man  who 


THE  WOLF'S  BREED  67 

saw,  in  every  dollar,  ten  drinks  of  whiskey.  Old  Joe, 
handled  right,  ought  certainly  to  prove  an  easy  man 
to  deal  with. 

For  parties  doing  business  through  a  third  one, 
the  strangers  were  surprisingly  well  furnished  with 
the  facts  in  the  case.  True  enough,  the  farm  be 
longed  to  Joe's  daughter,  and,  certainly,  she  was  not 
of  age.  That  was  common  talk;  but  Larry  should 
have  been  sharp  enough  to  question  the  source  of 
their  information. 

Barney  Shayne  was  as  he  was  because  it  had  paid; 
his  son  because  it  was  to  his  liking.  And  therein 
lay  a  vast  difference.  The  natural  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  would  have  made  the  father  cunning 
and  wary.  He  would  not  have  lost  the  tricks  his 
son  cast  away. 

"  Why,  there  ain't  a  chance !  "  he  confided  to 
them.  "  Not  one  in  a  million  that  Old  Joe  will  ever 
suspect  I  ain't  after  it  for  myself.  I  know  that  old 
rum-hound  better  than  I  know  myself,  and  if  I  can't 
do  business  with  him  at  the  right  price,  no  one  in 
this  town  can." 

"  Well,  what  about  the  girl?"  insisted  the  older 
of  the  two.  "  She's  said  to  be  a  smart  one.  We 
may  be  able  to  handle  the  old  man,  all  right,  only  to 
have  her  trip  us,  in  the  end.  And  what  a  pity  that 


68  DABNEY  TODD 

would  be,  when  Redburn  needs  a  country  club  so 
badly,  with  all  the  improvement  and  uplift  that  it 
implies?  " 

He  winked  sagely  and  took  another  drink.  Larry 
winked  back  at  him  and  followed  his  example. 
Right  well  Larry  knew  that  men  of  this  peculiarly 
smooth  type,  with  protuberant  "  bay-windows  "  and 
with  flabby  little  bags  under  their  eyes,  don't  build 
country  clubs  and  play  golf. 

Said  Larry,  wiping  his  loose  mouth : 

"  Leave  the  girl  to  me.  I'll  arrange  that.  If 
you  ask  me,  the  only  hitch'll  be  that  you're  offering 
him  too  much." 

A  spark  of  the  father's  caution  and  shrewdness 
guided  him  now. 

"  It's  all  right  giving  him  a  big  price  to  close  it  up 
quick  —  if  it  ain't  so  big  it'll  make  him  suspicious. 
Why,  that  farm  ain't  worth  ten  dollars  an  acre,  and 
you  offering  him  a  hundred  per  to  clinch  it  quick  — 
well,  maybe  it'll  be  all  right." 

So  quoth  Larry,  knowing  well  enough  that  Joe 
Pelot  would  be  lucky  to  get  even  ten  dollars  an  acre, 
after  he  was  through  with  the  deal. 

Real  estate  and  Larry  were  friends  of  short  ac 
quaintance  and  of  questionable  prosperity.  Still, 
Larry  Shayne  in  real  estate  and  insurance  was  a  lot 


THE  WOLFS  BREED  69 

more  inviting  than  Larry  Shayne  as  nondescript  lieu 
tenant  of  the  unsavory  Seneca  Inn. 

There  were  those  —  and  many  of  them  too  — 
who  dared  not,  for  very  obvious  reasons,  openly 
object  to  Barney's  son.  But  the  line  was  clearly 
drawn  against  him,  and  no  one  knew  it  better  than 
Larry  himself.  He  was  nobody's  fool.  Real  es 
tate  had,  however,  opened  some  doors  to  the  boy. 
He  had  a  way  with  him  when  he  tried,  and  a  man 
ner  of  a  sort,  that  made  his  devil-may-care  self  at 
tractive  to  some  people.  And  he  was  handsome, 
too,  with  his  wavy  black  hair,  red  cheeks  and  full- 
lipped  mouth  —  a  dangerous  man  to  girls  who  could 
not  rightly  appraise  him,  as  more  than  one  had  found 
to  her  sorrow.  Unscrupulous  by  nature,  and  pro 
tected  by  his  father's  power,  he  drove  down  life's 
highway  with  a  free  rein.  What  though  his  chariot- 
wheels  crushed  a  mere  woman,  now  and  then? 
Were  there  not  plenty  more? 

It  was  after  nine  before  his  visitors  made  ready 
to  leave.  Then  Larry  put  them  into  his  big  gray 
"  six  "  and  waited  at  the  station  with  them  until  the 
ten  o'clock  train  bore  them  away  into  the  night. 
Later,  with  several  of  his  convivial  companions,  he 
tasted  of  the  iniquity  so  invitingly  served  up  by  his 
worthy  father.  It  was  long  after  one  before  the 


70  DABNEY  TODD 

beetle-like  electric  eyes  that  bathed  the  Seneca  Inn 
in  a  phosphorescent  glow  began  to  dim.  The  har 
vest  had  been  a  bountiful  one. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DABNEY   TO   THE    RESCUE 

THE  following  Wednesday,  Neevey  Todd, 
standing  at  her  open  window,  gazed  with 
a  feeling  of  self-justification  at  Larry's 
racy-looking  roadster  standing  in  front  of  Nance 
Pelot's  home.  To  give  Neevey  her  just  due,  this 
antipathy  of  hers  towards  Nance  had  lately  caused 
her  some  misgiving.  Had  she,  after  all  —  she  had 
more  than  once  asked  herself  —  been  fair  to  Nance? 

The  car  had  been  there  a  long  while,  when  Dab- 
ney,  coming  earlier  than  usual  for  supper,  joined  his 
wife.  Righteous  indignation  shone  in  Neevey's 
eyes. 

"  There  you  are,  Dab  Todd,"  she  greeted  him. 
"  Take  a  look  at  that!"  And  she  pointed  down  the 
street  at  Larry's  car.  "  An'  me  plaguin'  myself  I 
had  read  her  wrong.  What  you  got  to  say  to  that?  " 

Dabney  peered  at  the  car  through  his  glasses, 
then  over  them,  and  scratched  his  head,  but  found 
no  ready  answer. 

"Huh?     What   say?"   demanded   his  helpmate 


72  DABNEY  TODD 

sharply.  "  Was  I  right  or  was  I  wrong  about  that 
gal?  Now  tell  me!  " 

For  a  moment  he  tried  to  evade  the  issue,  but, 
finding  himself  cornered,  had  to  meet  it. 

"  Wa'al  now,  Neevey,"  he  said  at  last,  "  don't  go 
kickin'  over  the  tugs.  You  ain't  goin'  to  git  nowhere 
like  that.  It's  a  steady  pull  straight  from  the  cross 
bar  as  takes  the  wagon  up  the  hill.  I  ain't  got  no 
more  use  for  that  there  feller  than  what  you  have. 
Ever  since  he  wanted  me  to  let  him  bid  in  that  big 
sorril  team  when  I  was  auctionin'  off  Mrs.  Weeden's 
stock  an'  farm  tools,  I've  knowed  he  warn't  no  good. 
No  man  is,  who'd  rob  a  widow.  He'd  ha'  got  that 
team  for  three  hundred  if  I  hadn't  shet  him  off.  As 
'twas  I  knocked  'em  down  for  five  hundred  an'  fifty, 
an'  they  was  dirt  cheap  at  that." 

"An'  he  didn't  get 'em?" 

"  No.  He  bid  up  to  four  hundred  an'  quit.  But 
that's  all  over  now.  The  p'int  I  make  is  that  a  feller 
who'd  steal  eggs  in  a  barn  in  the  daytime  is  purty 
apt  to  go  after  the  chickens  at  night,  and  break  the 
lock  of  the  hen-roost  to  do  it.  An'  I'm  tellin'  you 
that  girl  might  be  needin'  the  help  of  a  good  friend 
right  now  more'n  ever  in  her  life,  if  what  I  see  'bout 
a  week  back  's  got  anythin'  to  do  with  the  comin'  o' 
that  black  sheep." 


DABNEY  TO  THE  RESCUE  73 

"  Satan  give  you  the  power  of  makin'  black  white 
when  it  pleases  you,  Dab  Todd,"  snorted  Neevey. 
"  But  if  you  got  anythin'  on  your  mind,  you'd  better 
say  it  quick." 

"  Well,  mother,  if  you  got  your  opinion  made  up 
already,  why,  argufyin'  ain't  no  use.  What  I  was 
goin'  to  say  was  that  that  last  spell  o'  rain  raised 
hob  around  here,  an'  I  was  nat'rally  curious  to  see 
how  that  piece  o'  wheat  down  by  the  lake  was 
a-standin'  it.  So  I  hitched  up  ole  Diamond  and  druv 
out  there,  the  other  day." 

"Jest  because  you  was  curious?"  demanded 
Minerva  sharply. 

"  Uh-huh.  Curiosity's  one  o'  the  strongest  an' 
strangest  things  in  human  nater,  you  know,"  he  an 
swered,  with  a  shrewd  glance  at  his  partner.  It 
killed  the  cat,  remember,  which  means  nine  lives  at 
one  whack;  an'  Josh  Billings  himself  took  notice  of 
it  by  sayin'  it  was  a  most  pow'ful  peculiar  thing." 

"How  so?" 

"  Oh,  he  said  it  was  so  dum  peculiar  that  it  would 
make  a  whole  passel  o'  folks  stop  to  look  at  a  hole 
in  the  ground,  when  they  wouldn't  never  even  notice 
the  stars  in  the  sky.  But  no  matter.  It  was  jest 
curiosity  that  took  me  out  to'ards  that  there  farm, 
I'm  tellin'  you.  It  was  rainin'  that  day,  so  I  warn't 


74  DABNEY  TODD 

lookin'  to  meet  many  folks  along  the  way.  I'd  jest 
about  got  to  that  ole  Warner  place  when  I  see  a 
couple  o'  city-lookin'  folks  tyin'  up  there.  Wa'al, 
I  warn't  curious  none  so's  you  could  notice  it;  but 
comin'  back,  I'm  dog-goned  if  I  don't  see  them  same 
two  fellers  out  there  in  the  rain,  walkin'  'round  that 
ol'  farm,  dippin'  water  out  o'  the  holes  an'  hollers, 
an'  pourin'  a  little  bit  out  o'  one  into  a  bottle,  an' 
then  a  bit  out  of  another,  till  they  darn  near  had 
enough  to  fill  their  rig. 

"  Now,  that  place  ain't  no  good  for  nothin'  as  a 
farm.  'Bout  all  you  could  raise  on  it  is  ragweed  an' 
wild  carrots.  The  soil's  poorer'n  poverty  in  a  gale 
o'  wind.  So  it  comes  over  me  them  fellers  is  plumb 
crazy  —  or  is  up  to  somethin'.  The  more  I  thought 
about  it,  the  crazier  it  seemed.  I  got  to  figurin' 
they  was  downright  idiots,  or  that  their  business  was 
a  pressin'  one,  to  git  'em  out  there,  wadin'  around 
in  the  mud." 

"  An'  that  Shayne  boy  is  mixed  up  in  it?  " 
"  He  sure  is.  I  heard  that  at  the  Courthouse  in 
Redburn  this  morning,  when  I  was  makin'  my  returns 
for  the  last  auction  I  had.  Now,  I  don't  think 
there's  anythin'  too  dirty  for  this  here  Shayne  to  do. 
His  father's  record  couldn't  be  cleaned,  not  even  if 
you  b'iled  it  in  lye,  an'  the  son's  a  chip  o'  the  ole 


DABNEY  TO  THE  RESCUE  75 

block  —  no,  ruther  say,  a  piece  o'  punk  off  the  same 
rotten  ole  log." 

"  I  believe  you  there!  "  assented  Minerva,  warmly. 
'l  That's  why  I  can't  never  understand  why  Nance, 
if  she's  what  you  say,  can  endure  to  train  with  sech 
a  no-nation  scoundrel !  " 

"  Must  be  a  reason,  Neevey,  an'  not  necessarily 
anythin'  reflectin'  on  her,  neither,"  Dabney  asserted. 
"  When  a  hoss  limps  it's  'cause  he's  lame,  and  when 
a  woman  does  the  same  thing,  there's  somethin'  been 
done  to  spoil  her  gait.  An'  if  Nance  has  got  him 
followin'  her  'round,  'tain't  her  fault." 

"Yes,  but  what  does  he  want  with  Nance?" 
Neevey  inquired,  screwing  up  her  eyes  behind  her 
glasses,  with  a  quizzical  expression,  as  she  went  on, 
meaningly:  "  You  don't  s'pose  he  wants  to  git  that 
old  farm  of  her  mother's  from  her?  Why,  'tain't 
even  in  her  name  yet." 

"  Wa'al,  that  boy's  makin'  an  awful  effort  to  be 
a  real  estate  man,"  Dabney  answered  emphatically. 
Bringing  his  hand  down  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  he 
added:  "  By  the  pink-toed  prophet,  I'll  bet  he  ain't 
losin'  no  time !  " 

"  Chances  are  he's  got  old  Joe  on  his  side  already, 
if  he's  been  able  to  git  to  him,  huh,  Dabney?  " 

"  That's  the  most  sensible  thing  you  said  to-day. 


76  DABNEY  TODD 

Now  he's  hot-footin'  it  after  Nance.  Wa'al,  he  ain't 
got  it  yet.  I'm  one  of  the  executors  of  ole  Jedge 
Warner's  will,  an'  'fore  anyone  goes  buyin'  in  that 
farm  I'm  goin'  to  do  a  little  hesitatin'." 

"  When  does  Nance  git  the  property?  " 

"  Third  of  August,  this  year.  She'll  be  twenty- 
one,  then,  an'  no  one  can  keep  her  out  of  it  after 
that.  Now,  Neevey,  the  farm  ain't  much  good  for 
nothin',  s'fur's  I  see  —  without  there's  some  scheme 
in  connection  with  it.  So  you  let  the  girl  alone,  an' 
if  she  ain't  right  herself,  Chet'll  find  it  out,  an'  he'll 
drop  her  like  pizen." 

"  I  don't  set  no  store  by  that  kind  o'  talk,  Dab 
Todd  —  not  a  bit.  There's  too  many  nice  girls 
throwin'  themselves  away  on  wuthless  fellows  ev'ry 
day.  Some  on  'em  knew  what  they  was  doin',  I  tell 
you." 

Neevey  wagged  her  head  decisively.  Dabney 
waited  until  she  was  quite  through,  then  quietly  he 
asked: 

"  Mother,  do  you  know  what's  blinder'n  a  sleepin' 
mole?" 

"  I  dunno.     Lots  o'  things,  I  guess." 

"  Mebbe.  But  the  blindest  of  'em  all  is  a  young 
man  when  you  try  to  make  him  see  the  freckles 
on  his  sweetheart's  nose.  He'll  think  they're  sun- 


DABNEY  TO  THE  RESCUE  77 

shadders,  an'  that  they  make  her  all  the  purtier." 

Neevey  was  silent  for  a  brief  moment;  her  bark 
was  loud,  but  her  bite  —  well,  no  one  but  herself 
had  ever  felt  it. 

Dabney  tried  to  pat  her  hand  softly,  but  Neevey 
turned  on  him  with  a  start. 

"  That's  right!  "  she  scolded.  "  You  always  was 
a  regular  Don  Ju-an.  With  a  sentimental  old  goose 
like  you  for  a  father,  it's  no  wonder  that  fool  Chet's 
got  to  chasin'  Link's  customers  out  of  his  store  'cause 
they're  airin'  their  feelin's  a  bit." 

Feeling  that  he  had  in  no  wise  convinced  Minerva, 
Dabney  retired  from  the  fray  like  the  wise  man  he 
was,  and  beat  a  retreat  down  to  the  store,  which  his 
spouse  had  just  mentioned. 

As  he  went,  he  murmured  with  philosophical  resig 
nation  : 

"  There's  only  one  thing  in  the  world  more  sot  in 
an  opinion  than  what  a  woman  is,  an'  that's  —  two 
women!  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN    LIGHTER   VEIN 

AROUND  the  stove  he  found  the  usual  knot 
of  wiseacres,  all  consistently  engaged  in  the 
arduous  task  of  verbal  gymnastics,  the  while 
they  practiced  their  aim  at  the  sawdust  filled  box  be 
side  the  stove  or  whittled  bits  of  box-covers  with 
well-sharpened  knives.     As  he  entered,  the  subject 
under  discussion  was  the  President's  foreign  policy. 
Not  one  of  them  but  could  have  given  the  adminis 
tration  cards  and  spades  and  beaten  it  to  a  frazzle 
in  all  branches  of  diplomacy. 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,"  Spencer  Howe  was  asserting, 
while  he  reached  for  a  soggy  cracker  and  another 
bit  of  cheese  —  for  Spence,  being  a  deacon,  felt  cer 
tain  concessions  were  due  him  — "  I  tell  you,  if  I'd 
'a'  had  the  handlin'  o'  that  there  matter,  I'd  ha'  said 
to  England,  France  an'  Rooshy — " 

"  Devil  of  a  lot  you'd  said !  "  interrupted  Titus 
Showell,  worrying  off  a  fresh  "  chaw."  "  If  you 

78 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  79 

couldn't  write  a  furrin  note  no  better  'n  what  you 
pay  your  bills  — " 

"  That's  a  personal  matter  I  refuse  to  have  dis 
cussed  here !  "  blurted  Spence,  amid  general  laugh 
ter.  "Now—" 

"  Reckon  mebbe  he  could  of  handled  it  all  right, 
after  all,"  put  in  Pop  Jayne,  viciously  shaving  a  long 
curlecue  of  soft  wood.  "  This  here  dy-plomacy  is 
all  a  matter  o'  bluff,  anyhow,  an'  the  deacon's  all- 
fired  good  on  that.  Bluff's  what  makes  the  world 
go  round,  anyhow  —  that  an'  love.  Ain't  it,  Dab- 
ney?  "  he  appealed  to  Todd,  who  had  just  come  to 
anchor  in  a  creaking  rocker  by  the  stove  —  a  rocker 
strongly  bound  with  cord  and  braced  with  wire. 

"  Wa'al,  I  dunno  much  about  love,  not  at  my  age," 
drawled  Dabney,  "  an'  as  fer  bluff,  I  ain't  never  used 
none  — " 

A  general  chorus  of  indignant  protest  interrupted 
him,  a  moment.  After  it  had  subsided,  he  continued : 

"  Except  where  I  thought  it  might  be  to  the  in 
terests  of  all  concerned.  However,  there's  times 
when  it's  a  mighty  useful  quality.  As  fer  instance 
when  somebody's  tryin'  to  put  it  all  over  you,  an' 
you  can  take  him  down  a  peg,  to  his  own  advantage, 
without  no  harm  done.  The  way  old  Bill  Hayes 
done,  for  example,  out  to  Milton  Corner." 


8o  DABNEY  TODD 

He  paused  a  minute,  leaned  back  and  rocked 
slowly,  while  a  smile  broadened  his  good-humored 
mouth.  The  others,  scenting  a  story,  demanded  it 
insistently. 

"  Wa'al,  it  was  this  way,"  Dabney  presently  re 
sumed.  "  Bill,  you  know,  run  the  only  strictly  third- 
rate  hotel  in  the  world  to  be  advertised  as  sech. 
Yes,  sir,  he  had  the  dad-blamed  nerve  to  put  it  right 
on  his  sign.  I  swan  to  man  if  he  didn't  I  Why,  I 
can  see  it  yet,  jest  as  it  was  painted,  though  that  was 
all  o'  forty  year  ago.  It  advertised  that  Hayes  run 
the  original  and  only  third-rate  hotel  in  the  world, 
where  everythin'  failed  to  suit,  where  there  was 
tough  steak,  useless  servants,  debilitated  coffee  an'  a 
delapidated  livery-stable.  It  claimed  that  the  hotel 
was  universally  execrated,  an'  was  run  by  the  laziest 
man  in  the  state,  by  an  overwhelmin'  majority!  Sat 
isfaction  was  not  guaranteed,  an'  no  money  was 
refunded.  Everythin'  was  warranted  strictly 
shoddy!" 

"G'long!"  ejaculated  Dory  Benton,  the  clerk, 
pausing  with  incredulity  as  he  weighed  his  hand  in 
the  scales,  along  with  ten  pounds  of  lard.  "  He 
never  could  ha'  meant  that  —  an'  if  he  didn't,  it 
wouldn't  ha'  been  honest  to  put  it  out  to  the  pub 
lic!" 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  81 

"  Fact,  though,"  asserted  Dabney,  "  an'  facts  is 
as  stubborn  as  mules  —  almost  as  stubborn  as  the 
run  o'  womenfolks,  when  they  git  their  minds  sot. 
Yes,  sir,  that's  the  way  the  sign  run,  an'  not  a  word 
of  it  true,  nuther.  It  was  the  slickest  tavern  Bill 
ever  run,  an'  he  had  five.  They  all  burned,  too, 
heavily  insured,  an'  in  the  last  fire  twenty  boarders 
was  throwed  out  in  the  dead  o'  winter,  in  their  shirt- 
flaps.  It  was  an  A-One  place,  all  right.  But  that 
ain't  what  I'm  comin'  at.  I'm  aimin'  to  illustrate 
this  here  bluff  proposition,  an'  how  useful  it  some 
times  is  when  the  other  feller  thinks  he's  smarter  'n 
what  you  be,  an'  aims  to  put  one  over  on  you  an' 
make  you  plumb  ridic'l'us. 

"  It  was  this  way.  One  cold  January  night  a 
couple  o'  tony  critters  come  along  in  a  sleigh  an'  put 
up  to  the  hotel.  One  of  'em  was  'toxicated,  an'  the 
other  was  feelin'  right  up  on  his  shoe-taps,  too. 
They  set  round,  a  spell,  tryin'  to  jolly  the  ole  man 
but  not  gettin'  nowhere  much,  till  at  last  one  of  'em 
whispers  to  t'other  one,  loud  enough  so  Bill  could 
hear  it: 

"  '  Say,  he  must  be  an  original  old  Rube.  Just 
you  watch  me  get  him  on  a  string !  ' 

"  '  Go  to  it,'  says  the  second  one.  '  Bet  you  five 
bucks  he  trims  you ! ' 


82  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Wa'al,"  continued  Dabney,  drawing  out  his 
pocket-knife  and  picking  up  a  bit  of  wood,  just  to 
do  in  Rome  as  the  Romans  were  all  doing,  "  they 
closed  the  bet,  an'  the  fresh  one  started  in  to  do  up 
Bill. 

"  '  See  here,  my  friend,'  says  he,  *  we're  goin'  to 
stay  all  night,  and  we  want  the  best  there  is,  for 
breakfast.  I  don't  suppose,  though,  you  got  any 
thing  at  all  eatable  in  such  a  place,  have  you?  ' 

"  *  Oh,  I  dunno,'  says  Bill.  '  I  reckon  as  how  I 
kin  pervide  'most  anythin'  you  kin  think  of.' 

" ' So?  '  says  the  city  feiler.  '  Well,  how  about 
quail  on  toast?  ' 

"  '  Quail  it  is,  ef  you  say  so,'  comes  back  Bill. 
'  Only,  I  tell  you  now,  it'll  mebbe  cost  you  a  trifle 
high.' 

"  '  Oh,  cuss  the  cost! '  says  the  sport.  '  Go  to  it, 
old  man  —  at  your  own  figure ! ' 

"  '  Done !  '  says  Bill,  an'  that  settled  it." 

Dabney  eyed  his  whittling  with  a  critical  eye,  and 
kept  an  impressive  silence,  till  Dory  Benton,  unable 
to  contain  himself,  demanded: 

"Well,  what  next?" 

"  Next?  "  queried  Dabney.  "  Wait  on,  a  minute; 
hold  your  hosses,  an'  I'll  tell  you.  Bill,  he  was 
pow'ful  worrited,  'bout  that  time.  He  felt  his  reper- 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  83 

tation  was  at  stake,  an'  he  couldn't  bear  to  be  put 
down  a  peg  by  them  there  city  fellers.  When  they 
went  to  bed,  he  set  round  in  a  great  quand'y,  tryin' 
to  see  his  way  through  the  mux  he'd  got  himself  into. 
There  it  was  the  dead  o'  winter,  with  not  a  name- 
able  quail  in  a  hundred  miles  that  he  could  git  holt 
on,  an'  his  word  pledged  to  deliver  quail  on  toast  in 
the  mornin'. 

"  No,  Bill  couldn't  see  his  way  clear,  nohow.  He 
went  to  bed,  but  couldn't  sleep  a  wink,  thinkin'  of  the 
touse  he  was  in.  But  after  a  while  an  idee  struck 
him.  He  got  up,  lit  the  lantern  an'  hypered  down 
the  back-stairs,  out  to  the  hen-house.  It  jest  hap 
pened  he  had  a  brood  o'  young  chicks,  'bout  the  size 
o'  quail  an'  without  a  bit  more  chaw  to  'em.  He 
gethered  in  two  plump  ones  an'  executed  'em  an' 
dressed  'em  right  off.  Then  he  raided  the  rabbit- 
hutch,  an'  pretty  soon  had  a  nice  mess  of  rabbit- 
meat  and  the  two  chickens  on  to  parbile.  After  that 
he  went  back  to  bed  again,  an'  slept  like  a  volunteer 
fireman  on  a  winter's  night  when  he  hears  the  bell 
ring  fer  a  fire  at  the  far  end  o'  the  township. 

"  Next  mornin'  the  city  fellers  come  downstairs 
happy  an'  expectant,  ready  to  git  the  jay  landlord's 
whole  'tarnal  flock  o'  goats. 

"  Bill  was  all  ready  fer  'em,  believe  me.     Says  he 


84  DABNEY  TODD 

to  his  wife  —  Sally  Hayes,  her  that  was  a  Bean: 
'  Sally,'  says  he,  '  you  git  the  trimmin's  ready  fer  the 
rest  o'  this  here  scrumptious  day-joor-nay,  an'  put 
the  oatmeal  on.  Make  everythin'  extry  salubr'ous. 
I'll  'tend  to  the  meat-victuals  myself.' 

"  While  she  was  fixin'  some  red-hot  baked  pota 
toes,  sody-biscuits,  bees'-honey,  blueberry-pickles  an' 
maple-syrup,  an'  b'ilin'  the  tea,  Bill,  he  took  an' 
br'iled  them  there  chicks  to  a  turn,  hard-b'iled  some 
eggs  an'  toasted  some  riz  bread,  which  he  soused  in 
melted  butter.  He  cut  the  eggs  in  slices  an'  laid 
a  row  of  'em  round  three  plates.  Then  he  put  the 
toast  in  the  middle  an'  put  the  *  quails  '  on  the  toast. 
Spence  Howe,  if  you  had  a  feed  like  that,  this  min 
ute,  you  wouldn't  be  pryin'  up  that  fly-screen  to  git 
that  sliver  of  cheese  when  you  think  Link  Watkins, 
here,  ain't  watchin'  you,  now  would  you?  " 

When  the  laugh  at  Spence  had  subsided,  Dabney 
continued: 

"  By  the  pink-toed  prophet,  them  quails  looked 
like  what  the  doctor  ordered,  an'  no  mistake.  The 
rabbit  made  up  for  the  scarcity  of  meat,  an'  the  ef 
fect  was  stoopendous.  When  the  city  fellers  see  the 
table,  there  wa'n't  two  surpriseder  men  on  earth, 
now  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you.  They  both  on  'em  set 
there,  pickin'  away  an'  nibbhV,  plumb  flabbergasted, 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  85 

with  Bill  peekin'  through  a  crack  in  the  door  at  'em, 
scared  yet  juberous. 

"After  a  little  silence:  '  It's  sure  quail!  '  whis 
pered  one  of  'em.  '  I  see  where  I  win  that  V, 
Henry.' 

"  Win  is  right,'  says  the  other.  '  But  how  the 
devil—?' 

'  I  don't  know,  nor  care,'  the  first  one  answers 
quickly. 

"  '  But  —  but  there  isn't  a  quail  to  be  had  — ! ' 

"  '  You  owe  me  five  bucks,  Henry,'  says  the  win 
ner,  spearin'  a  baked  potato  —  pommy  de  terrier,  I 
believe  old  Bill  used  to  call  'em,  or  somethin'.  '  I 
don't  know  how  he  did  it,  but  I  do  know  quail,  when 
I  taste  it,  and  that's  enough  for  me.' 

"  They  fell  to,  then,  an'  rended  them  little  fowls 
limb  from  gizzard,  still  wonderin',  but  mighty 
tickled.  When  they  come  to  settle  the  damage,  Bill 
was  right  on  the  job. 

"  '  Let's  see,  let's  see,'  he  figgered,  runnin'  up  a 
colyume,  '  thar's  lodgin'  fer  two  city  sports,  bait  fer 
two  hosses,  two  breakfasts  with  quail  —  most  on- 
usual  out  o'  season  —  an'  extrys.  That'll  come  to 
about  ten  dollars,  seein'  it's  you.' 

"  They  gulped  like  hornpouts,  but  was  game  an' 
settled;  didn't  count  their  change,  nuther. 


86  DABNEY  TODD 

"  '  Get  our  sleigh,  quick,'  was  all  they  said.  '  If 
we  stick  round  here,  we'll  maybe  step  on  a  bean,  or 
something,  an'  that'll  be  another  dollar.' 

"  Just  afore  they  started,  they  called  Bill  out  to 
where  they  was  settin'  in  the  sleigh,  all  tucked  up  in 
their  buffalo. 

"  '  Landlord,'  says  one,  mighty  respectful,  '  I've 
lost  five  bones,  already,  but  I'll  cough  up  another  five 
if  you'll  answer  me  one  question.  Where  in  blazes 
did  you  get  those  quail?  ' 

"  Bill,  he  never  said  a  word,  but  went  back  into 
the  tavern,  an'  come  out  in  a  minute  with  a  basket. 
In  the  basket  was  a  rabbit-skin  an'  a  handful  of 
feathers  —  downy,  leetle  pin-feathers. 

"  Nary  a  word  did  he  utter,  but  just  stood  and 
muxed  them  feathers  an'  that  hide  round  an'  round 
with  his  hand. 

'  The  city  sports  stared  a  minute,  plumb  dod- 
gasted.  Then  all  at  once  the  one  that  had  lost  the 
money  throwed  Bill  a  fiver,  an'  give  a  slash  with  the 
whip. 

"  l  Gid-dap! '  he  hollered,  an'  away  they  went, 
wiser  but  sadder  —  an'  poorer.  Ole  Bill,  he  stood 
there  in  the  road,  the  happiest  man  in  ten  counties, 
I  reckon.  An'  all  because  why?  Because  he'd 
smote  the  ungodly  hip  an'  thigh,  hadn't  let  himself 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  87 

be  stumped,  an'  had  met  them  that  would  of  mocked 
him,  with  the  efficient  weapon  of  bluff. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Dabney  terminated  with  emphasis, 
"  they's  times  when  it's  not  only  justifiable,  but  even 
obligat'ry,  an'  I  cal'late  that  there  was  one  of  'em." 

"  I  don't,"  objected  Titus  Showell,  casting  sheeps'- 
eyes  at  the  cracker-barrel  but  not  venturing  a  raid. 
"  To  my  way  o'  thinkin',  it  wasn't  nothin'  but  ob- 
tainin'  money  under  false  pretenses,  no  better  than 
the  trick  Hod  Littlefield  an'  Lester  Brooks  put  over 
on  George  Stevens  a  couple  of  years  ago,  down  to 
the  Pond." 

"How  was  that,  Titus?"  inquired  Pop  Jayne. 
"  I  don't  seem  to  recollect  rightly." 

"  Oh,  George  used  to  have  a  case  o'  Pabst  come 
in  by  express,  once  in  a  while  —  mebbe  twice  —  an' 
he  used  to  keep  it  in  his  cellar.  That  was  when  the 
Pond  was  prohibition,  you  know.  Well,  Hod  an' 
Lester  used  to  git  kind  of  dry,  at  times;  an'  so  one 
night  they  abstracted  —  that's  the  word,  I  reckon  — 
abstracted  a  dozen  bottles,  which  was  about  one  good 
drink  fer  'em. 

"  George,  he  got  wind  of  where  his  oh-be-joyful 
had  went,  an'  had  'em  took.  Lawed  'em  both, 
charged  with  larceny.  Hod  was  awful  sore,  almost 
as  sore  as  that  time  Mrs.  Stone  run  him  off  her  farm 


88  DABNEY  TODD 

an'  he  got  ketched  in  the  barbed-wire  fence  an'  she 
warmed  it  to  him  with  a  barr'l-stave  quite  a  spell  till 
he  got  clear  an'  run  home  in  the  snow  without  hardly 
no  pants  on  at  all,  to  speak  of.  So  he  an'  Lester 
put  their  heads  together  an'  hatched  a  scheme. 

"  They  went  to  George  an'  offered  to  pay  up  the 
damage,  if  he'd  withdraw  his  charge.  Which  he 
done,  an'  they  settled.  Then  they  turned  round  an' 
had  him  took  fer  illegal  sellin'  of  liquor  —  yes,  an' 
got  him  fined,  too.  Can  you  beat  that  fer  neigh 
borly  love  an'  affection?  " 

Silence  followed,  a  moment,  broken  only  by  the 
crisp  slither  of  Dabney's  blade  through  the  soft 
wood.  Then  said  Dabney: 

"  If  I'd  put  up  a  gag  like  that,  I'd  of  felt  the  way 
Eddie  Mann  did  that  time  he  went  bear-huntin'  in 
Canada,  an'  got  chased  by  a  grizzly.  Ed,  he  run 
five  miles,  so  they  say,  an'  finally  crawled  into  a  holler 
tree.  The  bear  waited  fer  him  to  come  out,  all 
night,  but  Ed  he  decided  to  stay.  After  a  while  it 
come  on  to  rain,  an'  shrunk  the  wood,  an'  Ed  got 
stuck.  The  bear  went  home,  but  Ed  found  he 
couldn't.  All  day  he  shivered  an'  prayed  fer  deliv 
erance  in  that  there  log,  an'  finally  decided  his  time 
had  come  an'  he'd  have  to  go  to  his  last  reward. 

"  That  made  him  think  over  all  the  mean  things 


IN  LIGHTER  VEIN  89 

he'd  ever  done  in  this  life,  an'  one  by  one  he  prayed 
to  be  forgiven.  At  last,  however,  he  remembered 
one  thing  so  dod-rotted  mean  he  didn't  dast  pray 
about  it,  an'  that  was  — " 

"  Well,  what?  "  demanded  Dory  Benton,  eagerly. 
Benton,  the  local  Republican  politician  and  member 
of  the  county  committee,  might  always  be  depended 
on  to  butt  in  with  an  interrupting  question  at  the 
climax  of  a  story. 

"  Wa'al,"  drawled  Dabney,  arising  from  his  seat 
by  the  stove  and  shutting  up  his  knife,  "  what  he 
thought  of  was  how  he'd  voted  the  Republican  ticket 
all  his  life.  When  he  considered  that,  he  begun  to 
feel  terrible  pindlin'  an'  small.  He  shrunk  an' 
shrunk  so,  that,  by  the  pink-toed  prophet !  he  pretty 
soon  crawled  out  a  knot-hole  in  the  tree  an'  went 
home  —  an'  that's  where  I'm  goin',  too.  Good 
night!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LARRY    SHAYNE    LEADS   TRUMPS 

JOE    PELOT    had   lain    sick    for   many    days. 
More  than  two  weeks  had  passed  since  he  had 
fallen    helplessly    on    the    kitchen    floor,    and 
still  he  was  only  able  to  putter  around  the  house  a 
bit.     Whiskey  and  Joe  were  near  the  parting  of  the 
ways.     He  had  piled  the  straws  upon  the  camel's 
back  until  the  poor  camel  could  rise  no  longer,  and 
even  its  efforts  were  numbered. 

Nance  had  eked  out  an  existence  after  a  fashion, 
but  she  was  getting  to  her  wits'  end.  Meager  and 
irregular  as  had  been  the  money  old  Joe  had  earned, 
still  it  had  sufficed.  Never  before  had  there  been  a 
period  of  two  lean  weeks  intervening. 

Doc  Rand  had  told  her  to-day  that  it  would  be  a 
long  time  before  her  father  would  be  able  to  work. 
Nance  had  pleaded  with  him,  but  the  kindly  faced 
old  practitioner  had  not  been  able  to  alter  his  verdict. 
Only  too  well  he  understood  the  seriousness  of  her 
father's  condition.  In  his  heart  he  knew  the  old 
man  had,  by  long  years  of  intemperance,  passed  even 

90 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS      91 

the  wide  limits  of  tolerance  that  the  human  body  de 
velops  under  abuse. 

The  girl  knew  the  time  had  come  for  her  to  go 
out  and  earn  the  daily  bread,  but  where  to  go  or  what 
to  do  left  her  without  an  answer. 

Nance  had  guarded,  with  a  great  deal  of  fear, 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she  had  sung  in  a  mean 
little  moving-picture  theater  back  in  Redburn.  Sev 
eral  Saturdays,  since  she  had  been  in  New  Canaan, 
she  had  journeyed  to  the  town  to  earn  a  few  scanty 
dollars,  which  had  gone  for  the  keeping  of  both  of 
them.  And  once,  when  Blake  had  invited  the  choir 
to  a  little  May  party,  she  had  begged  a  ride  over  to 
the  city,  and  had  accepted  Larry  Shayne's  offer  to 
bring  her  home  in  his  car.  That  time  the  money, 
stretched  and  pieced  out  almost  to  the  breaking  point, 
had  gone,  in  part,  for  an  inexpensive  but  smart  little 
dress. 

For  one  who  claimed  to  own  his  theater,  Morris 
Rosenblatt,  a  beefy-faced  and  thick-neck  shyster 
Jew  lawyer,  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  at  the  Seneca 
Inn,  and  there  made  many  detailed  reports  regard 
ing  the  profits  of  said  theater  to  Barney  himself. 
So  it  was  only  fair  to  conjecture  that  the  unspeak 
able  Rosenblatt  didn't  own  nearly  as  much  as  he 
seemed  to. 


92  DABNEY  TODD 

This  Rosenblatt  creature  was  of  the  dregs  of 
Jewry  —  one  of  those  base  creatures  who  disgrace 
the  name  of  Judah  by  pretending  not  to  be  a  He 
brew,  by  trying  to  associate  only  with  Gentiles  and 
by  having  none  of  the  virtues  of  either,  with  all  the 
vices  of  both.  Greedy,  crooked  and  dishonest,  he 
had  already  been  refused  admission  to  the  bar,  in 
Boston,  on  grounds  of  bad  moral  character,  and  had 
only  got  himself  admitted  to  practice  in  New  York 
State  by  false  declarations.  His  specialty  was  de 
fending  low  characters,  dope-fiends  and  wrecks, 
fleecing  them  out  of  their  last  remaining  funds  and, 
in  general,  double-crossing  everybody. 

Rosenblatt  was,  in  his  way,  as  great  an  ulcer  on 
the  body  politic  as  Shayne  senior  was  in  his.  Ever 
since  he  had  tried  to  defend  some  crooked  claim 
of  a  morphine-addict  and  had  demanded  fifty  dol 
lars  a  day  and  expenses,  from  the  court  —  only  to 
be  excluded  from  the  case  by  a  disgusted  judge  — 
he  had  been  something  of  a  joke,  in  town,  and  had 
borne  the  nickname  of  "  Shark  "  and  "  Jewfish." 
Of  late  he  had  become  a  henchman  and  a  satellite  of 
the  elder  Shayne,  under  the  guise  of  operating  a 
movie  house  for  which  Shayne  was  really  putting 
up  the  money.  Both  Larry  and  his  vicious  son  en 
joyed  their  contact  with  the  business,  giving  them, 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS      93 

as  it  did,  some  entree  to  the  fringes  of  the  theatrical 
business,  and  bringing  a  certain  amount  of  business 
to  the  Seneca  Inn. 

The  connection  had  been  particularly  agreeable 
to  Larry  Shayne,  since  it  had  given  him  a  chance  to 
cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  Nance  Pelot.  In 
dealing  with  women,  Larry  had  a  system  of  his  own, 
and,  having  found  it  so  uniformly  successful,  had  not 
questioned  its  effect  and  progress  with  Nance.  He 
had  made  the  mistake  of  thinking:  "Like  father, 
like  daughter."  Therein  Larry  had  erred.  His  ac 
quaintance  with  old  Joe  dated  back  to  late  boyhood. 
Joe  had  often,  in  happier  times,  merited  the  squint- 
eyed  Shayne  smile.  In  fact,  Larry  had  —  so  to 
speak  —  grown  up  with  Joe's  intoxication. 

Perhaps  his  mistake  had  been  a  natural  one. 

The  great  wonder  that  Larry's  savoir  faire  had 
brought  home  to  Nance  had  been  that  so  many  had 
been  taken  in  by  it.  To  her  it  had  seemed  so  shabby, 
so  make-believe,  that  she  couldn't  feel  more  than  a 
passing  pity  for  her  less  fortunate  sisters  who  paid 
the  price.  Nance's  tuition  in  that  phase  of  life  had 
been  slight,  but  a  few  days  in  such  a  place  had  been 
illumining. 

Again,  Nance  knew  New  Canaan  would  not  have 
understood.  A  city,  or  even  a  small  town,  might 


94  DABNEY  TODD 

not  have  questioned ;  but  in  this  little  country  village, 
beyond  peradventure  of  a  doubt,  her  employment, 
in  a  moving  picture  theater  and  dance  hall,  would 
have  been  misconstrued  into  something  bordering 
on  downright  immorality. 

Nance  little  knew  that  some  folks,  Martin  Doover, 
for  instance,  had  already  placed  that  construction  on 
her  —  to  them  mysterious  —  visits  to  Redburn. 
And  she  held  the  respect  and  good-will  of  New 
Canaan  more  precious  than  she  could  well  express. 
Blake's  kindliness,  the  choir  attachments  and  many 
other  little  associations  now  went  a  great  way  to 
ward  making  up  for  the  things  she  had  missed.  She 
had  been  happier  here  than  ever  before  in  all  her 
life.  Only  here  had  she  found  any  measure  of  that 
sympathy,  friendship  and  good-will  which  mean  so 
much  in  a  young  woman's  existence.  And  here,  too 
—  though  this  she  scarcely  realized  and  would  not, 
had  she  realized  it,  have  admitted  it  to  herself  — 
dwelt  Chet  Todd. 

Looking  back  now,  the  money  seemed  to  repre 
sent  so  much  of  sacrifice;  but  she  wondered  if  it  had 
been  too  much.  She  had  risked  pride,  and  happi 
ness,  the  respect  of  others,  but  never  herself  —  she 
knew  that  so  infinitely  well!  And  the  money,  the 
bright  and  shining  money  that  every  one  took  and 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS      95 

no  one  questioned,  had  meant  food  and  clothes  and 
shelter;  had  meant  life! 

Thus  to-day,  Nance  knew  she  was  prepared  to 
make  the  fight  again. 

Had  Morris  Rosenblatt  and  the  tin-panny  piano 
of  his  movie-house  still  been  available,  she  knew  she 
could  have  turned  to  them  with  even  a  bitter  glad 
ness;  to  them,  a  seeming  oasis  in  a  world  of  uncer 
tainty. 

She  smiled  faintly  at  the  irony  of  her  decision. 
It  was  not  a  thing  of  choice.  What  else  was  there 
to  do? 

Her  father's  little  shop,  with  its  worn-out,  cast- 
off  tools,  was  of  no  value.  Besides,  it  held  for  both 
of  them  no  more  than  the  bare  chance  of  self-sup 
port,  and  for  him  only  the  semblance  of  employ 
ment.  Beyond  that,  what  was  there?  A  farm!  A 
miserable,  rock-strewn  farm,  all  but  valueless.  Such 
were  their  assets. 

The  first  great  tragedy  of  her  life  had  found  her 
a  young  girl,  kneeling  beside  her  dead  mother,  the 
promise  still  warm  on  her  lips  that  she  would  keep 
the  little  farm  for  her  own.  It  was  to  be  hers  and 
her  children's  children's.  Some  day  it  was  to  be  val 
uable  —  her  mother's  one  legacy  to  posterity.  They 
would  point  to  it  with  pride  as  the  foundation  of 


96  DABNEY  TODD 

their  fortunes,  and  each  generation  in  its  turn  would 
not  be  forgotten. 

Poor,  sweet  little  mother !  How  solemnly  she  had 
made  Nance  a  party  to  this  quixotic  dream.  The 
girl  wondered  what  must  have  been  her  thought 
could  she  have  seen  it  to-day  —  a  haunted  house,  set 
in  a  sea  of  mud  and  desolation. 

Nance  knew  too  well,  even  in  her  hour  of  need, 
what  her  answer  must  have  been,  had  some  one  of 
fered  her  money  for  it.  At  least,  she  had  been 
spared  the  agony  of  that,  as  well  as  the  grief  of  see 
ing  her  husband,  sinking  lower  and  lower  in  the  mire 
of  intoxication,  approach  the  inevitable  end  of  evil 
living.  Much  as  Nance  missed  her  mother,  she 
would  not  —  even  had  she  been  able  —  have  called 
her  back  to  earth  again  from  the  long  sleep  of  ob 
livion. 

She  had  been  so  absorbed  with  her  thoughts  and 
the  decision  they  had  led  her  to,  that  she  had  failed 
to  notice  the  car  come  panting  up  to  her  doorway 
and  stop. 

Walking  up  the  path  was  Larry  Shayne. 

Nance's  heart  fluttered.  Her  feeling  at  this  mo 
ment  was  not  unlike  that  of  a  wild  animal  suddenly 
surprised  in  its  lair.  The  mental  debate  whether  to 
run  away,  or  to  stay  and  meet  him,  left  her  cold 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS   97 

in  her  tracks  —  and  there  he  was  in  the  doorway, 
coming  toward  her,  his  cap  in  one  hand  and  the  other 
held  out  in  greeting. 

"  Hello,  Nance ! "  she  heard  him  saying. 
"  You're  a  perfect  picture,  standing  there  staring  at 
me  that  way."  Then  again :  "  Why,  you  don't 
seem  very  glad  to  see  me,  little  girl.  What's  wrong  ? 
What's  the  trouble  all  about,  anyway?  " 

Nance  was  quite  herself  now.  The  deadly  calm 
of  her  level  voice  showed  that. 

"Were  you  invited  here,  Larry  Shayne?"  The 
directness  of  her  cold,  incisive  words  erased  the  smile 
from  his  lips. 

;'  Why,  you  ain't  going  to  take  that  tone  with  me, 
are  you,  Nance?"  he  protested.  "Seems  to  me 
you've  known  me  long  enough  not  to  be  so  stand 
offish.  Why  can't  we  be  friends?  Why  can't  you 
—  think  of  me  as  —  as  something  besides  an 
enemy?  " 

"  We  have  been  over  all  that  before,"  she  an 
swered,  with  a  glint  in  her  eyes.  "  I  believed  I  had 
made  myself  perfectly  clear.  If  I  have  left  any  sin 
gle  thing  unsaid  that  has  given  you  reason  to  think 
there  could  be  anything  further  between  you  and  me, 
I  am  truly  sorry.  Your  ways  are  not  mine,  and 
that's  an  end  to  it." 


98  DABNEY  TODD 

"Aw!  Don't  say  that,  Nance!"  he  pleaded. 
"  Don't  say  anything  you're  going  to  be  sorry  for." 

"Sorry?"  The  sarcasm  of  it!  She  continued, 
steadily:  "Why,  every  privilege  my  friendship 
gave  you,  you  have  abused,  and  tried  to  cheapen  me 
with.  But  why  go  over  all  that  again?  The  one 
thing  I  asked  was  that  you  should  stay  away.  Your 
coming  here  to-day  was  a  matter  of  small  importance 
to  you.  It  was  the  one  thing  I've  dreaded  for 
weeks." 

There  was  a  sob  in  her  voice,  as  she  continued: 

"  I  have  been  happy  here  —  in  a  way.  These  peo 
ple  are  my  friends,  and  I  want  their  respect.  More 
and  more  I've  realized  lately  what  they  must  have 
thought  when  they  saw  me  driving  around  with  you, 
seemingly  accepting  your  hospitality  and  —  friend 
ship.  They  knew  you  much  better  than  I  did,  and, 
you  know,  they  don't  like  you  in  this  town.  That 
car  out  there  will  set  a  hundred  tongues  to  wagging. 
Right  now,  I'll  venture,  there  isn't  a  soul  in  New 
Canaan  but  knows,  and  some  of  them  are  pointing 
to  it,  glad  it's  there  to  shame  me." 

The  girl's  emotion  overcame  her.  Her  eyes  fill 
ing  with  tears,  she  sank  into  a  chair,  all  of  her  re 
serve  gone  now,  and  her  throbbing  heart  a-smother. 

"  It  isn't  fair!  "  she  sobbed.     "  It  isn't  fair!  " 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS      99 

Larry  Shayne  had  foreseen  some  such  reception, 
and  he  had  expected  anger  and  distrust,  but  hardly 
tears  —  not  tears  from  Nance. 

Watching  her,  he  began  to  appreciate  dimly  the 
gulf  between  them,  and  for  the  first  time  seriously 
wondered  if  he  had  let  her  slip  through  his  fingers. 

There  was  a  great  deal  about  the  girl  he  couldn't 
understand.  To  put  it  in  his  vernacular,  he  couldn't 
figure  her.  Still,  very  decidedly  he  meant  to  have 
her  some  day  —  when  he  should  get  around  to  it. 
Larry  boasted  that  he  always  got  everything  he  really 
went  after.  In  his  conceit  he  believed  no  woman 
could  withstand  him,  once  he  had  set  his  mind  on 
her.  And  Nance  should  prove  no  exception  to  the 
rule. 

Drink  had  made  a  fool  of  him,  or  he  wouldn't 
have  lost  her  before,  thought  he.  What  an  idiot 
he  had  been  to  suggest  that  trip  down  the  St.  Law 
rence  to  Montreal  and  Quebec!  He  smiled  to  him 
self  a  little  as  he  remembered  her  flaming  indigna 
tion.  To-day  he  had  come  under  no  misapprehen 
sion. 

But  time  would  heal  all  that. 

Larry  was  shrewd  enough  to  wait  until  Nance  had 
regained  control  of  herself  before  he  spoke;  and  had 
it  been  pure  invention  on  his  part,  the  tangent  his 


ioo  DABNEY  TODD 

conversation  took  would  have  been  worthy  of  the 
best  Shayne  traditions. 

"  Why,  Nance,"  said  he,  in  a  gentle  tone,  "  I 
didn't  think  I  needed  an  invitation.  The  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  didn't  bring  me  here.  I  came  on  busi 
ness." 

Business! 

Somehow  it  penetrated  the  girl's  brain.  What 
business  could  Larry  Shayne  have  with  her?  What 
legitimate  business  did  he  ever  have  with  anybody? 
Who  had  ever  dealt  with  him,  whether  man  or 
woman,  without  having  in  the  end  bitterly  regretted 
it? 

Larry  failed  to  sense  her  attitude,  but  with  fatu 
ous  and  labored  good-humor  pressed  his  campaign. 

'  Yes,"  he  rambled  on.  "  I  came  here  to  make 
you  an  offer  on  your  farm.  I've  got  a  pretty  good 
little  real  estate  business  of  my  own  now,  and  I  have 
a  chance  to  sell  that  farm  for  you.  A  real  fancy 
offer,  too.  I  thought  it  was  your  dad's  until  I  went 
over  to  the  Courthouse  this  morning." 

Larry  was  lying  now.  He  had  hoped  to  get  hold 
of  the  farm  through  old  Joe  himself.  Finding  her 
father  not  at  his  shop  had  knocked  his  plans  a  bit 
awry.  Indeed,  he  had  even  hoped  to  time  his  ar 
rival  at  their  home  so  as  to  find  Nance  out,  and  still 


IOI 

see  Joe  alone.  As  he  went  on,  the  girl  listened  me 
chanically,  without  seeming  to  show  any  interest. 

"  You  know,  you  ain't  got  any  right  to  expect  a 
big  price  for  that  place,  Nance,  and  I  figure  you 
ought  to  jump  at  the  proposition  I'm  going  to  make 
you.  I'll  bet  you  ain't  had  another  offer  for  it  in 
ten  years.  And  no  matter  what  you  think  of  me, 
I  want  to  tell  you  I've  boosted  the  price  all  it'll 
stand.  Now  we  want  to  close  it  up  quick,  'fore  this 
fellow  backs  out.  If  we  do,  it  means  twenty-five 
dollars  an  acre.  Think  of  that!  What  do  you 
say?" 

Nance  shook  her  head. 

"  It's  idle  sitting  here  talking  about  it.  It's  not 
for  sale." 

"Not  for  sale?"  Larry  wondered  if  he  heard 
right.  "You  mean  it  ain't  enough?  Why,  you 
couldn't  give  that  farm  to  some  folks  I  know." 

Nance  knew  he  was  telling  the  truth,  now,  and 
vaguely  wondered  why  he  had  made  such  an  ex 
travagant  offer.  A  look  at  the  place  would  have 
told  any  one  he  was  offering  twice  what  it  was  worth. 

Was  there  a  hint  of  charity  in  the  proposal?  At 
the  thought,  she  shuddered.  It  seemed  passing 
strange  to  her  that  this  man  should  ail  at  once  be 
taking  so  very  active  an  interest  in  her. 


102  DABNEY  TODD 

Strange,  too,  that  she  had  foreseen  herself  a  party 
to  just  such  a  conversation  as  this. 

"  No,"  she  murmured.  "No  ...  it's  not  the 
price.  The  price  is  too  high.  But  I  can't  sell  it. 
You  would  hardly  understand,  I  believe.  But  it  was 
my  mother's  farm.  She  gave  it  to  me,  to  keep  for 
her.  I  guess  I  couldn't  sell  it  and  be  happy." 

Nance  was  calm  again,  and  well  aware  of  the  de 
cision  she  was  making.  Also  of  the  fact  she  was 
throwing  away  the  one  opportunity  she  was  likely 
to  have  of  securing  money  enough  to  tide  her  over. 

It  seemed  almost  providential,  this  offer,  coming 
in  her  hour  of  direst  need. 

Larry  Shayne  argued  long  and  well,  to  no  avail. 
One  less  determined  than  he,  or  with  finer  feelings, 
would  have  desisted  long  before  he  did. 

Nance  denying  herself  and  her  father,  that  she 
might  be  true  to  a  promise  given,  strangely  puzzled 
him.  Not  by  the  longest  flight  of  his  imagination 
could  he  picture  himself  standing  on  any  such  tri 
fling  principle.  It  was  as  far  removed  from  him  as 
the  stars. 

He  was  nearer  to  loving  Nance  Pelot  at  that  mo 
ment  —  had  love  been  possible  to  him  —  than  he 
had  ever  been  before.  And  fear  of  losing  her  gave 
him  the  courage  to  venture  on  dangerous  ground. 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS     103 

"  Well,  Nance,"  he  risked,  at  last,  "  I  don't  want 
to  tell  you  your  business,  but  it  don't  seem  to  me  that 
you're  doing  the  right  thing  by  your  dad.  You've 
got  him  to  think  of.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  him?  Where  are  you  going  to  get  the  money 
to  keep  things  going?" 

"  I'm  going  to  work,"  she  shot  back  at  him. 
"  There  must  be  something  I  can  do.  I'm  strong 
and  active,  willing  to  labor,  and  determined  not  to 
be  dependent  on  anybody.  I'm  positive  that  if  I 
once  make  up  my  mind  to  work,  and  get  over  caring 
what  kind  of  work  it  is  —  just  so  it's  honest  —  I 
shall  be  able  to  get  along,  some  way  or  other." 

"  You  just  try  it,"  he  warned.  "  There  isn't  a 
decent  job  in  this  whole  place  for  a  girl  like  you. 
What  are  you  going  to  do?  Go  out  and  wash 
dishes  and  scrub  floors,  for  a  lot  of  ignorant  no 
bodies,  who'll  never  let  you  forget  for  a  minute  that 
you  are  what  you  are?" 

Nance  was  silent. 

"  Can  you  see  yourself,"  he  went  on,  carried  away 
by  his  own  eloquence,  "  a  worn-out,  flat-chested 
woman  at  twenty-five,  your  hands  swollen  and  boiled 
in  lye  until  they're  only  things  fit  to  work  and  eat 
with?  No,  you  can't  see  that,  huh?  Well,  you 
wait  until  some  of  the  good  people  in  this  town  come 


io4  DABNEY  TODD 

a-running  in  to  help  you !  I  ain't  your  kind,  you 
say?  All  right!  I'll  let  that  go.  I  won't  insult 
you  by  offering  you  money.  You  don't  want  that 
from  me.  But  I  will  get  you  a  chance  to  work. 
My  old  man  needs  some  one  to  hit  that  piano  of  his 
every  Wednesday  and  Saturday  night  —  some  one 
that  won't  scare  the  customers  out  of  the  place,  and 
it's  your  job  if  you  want  it.  And  my  dad  ain't  no 
tightwad.  What  do  you  say?" 

His  impassioned  words  brought  Nance  out  of  her 
chair.  Nervously  she  paced  back  and  forth  across 
the  room.  She  had  argued  this  over  with  herself 
before  he  had  come;  and  as  his  words  fell  from  his 
lips  she  knew  her  fate  was  being  read  for  her.  But 
she  could  not  deny  herself  that  last  brief  minute  of 
hesitation  which  was  her  woman's  right. 

The  repugnance  and  loathing  she  had  for  the 
place  she  put  aside.  The  putting  of  herself  in 
Larry's  hands  chilled  her;  in  that  last  moment  it  was 
to  Chet  that  her  thoughts  went  out. 

As  she  turned  to  face  Larry  Shayne,  staring  at 
her  in  the  growing  twilight,  she  sent  a  fervent  little 
prayer  heavenward  that  Chet  Todd  might  not 
know. 

"When  do  we  go?"  she  asked,  simply,  all  in 
flection  gone  from  her  voice. 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS     105 

It  was  an  effort  for  him  to  answer.  What  it 
had  cost  her  he  almost  understood,  though  vaguely 
—  for,  despite  all  his  vileness,  some  spark  of  man 
hood  still  glowed  deep  in  his  mean  little  soul;  some 
faint,  expiring  flicker  of  decency  not  yet  quite 
drowned  by  the  rising  flood  of  intemperance,  vice 
and  dishonesty  that  had  come  to  him  from  his  base 
father  as  a  patrimony. 

"To-night!     Now !"  he  articulated. 

Nance  drooped  her  head  in  sign  of  assent.  An 
evil  glitter  leaped  into  Larry's  unsteady  eyes.  He 
felt  that  he  had  won  the  first  battle  of  a  campaign 
which  could  end  only  in  complete  victory. 

As  the  car  swung  into  the  road,  Nance  huddled 
down  in  the  robe  he  had  placed  around  her.  The 
seconds  that  elapsed  before  they  would  be  passing 
Todd's  blacksmith  shop  seemed  countless  hours  to 
the  girl,  her  teeth  biting  into  her  lips  until  they  were 
white.  She  assured  and  reassured  herself  over  and 
over,  countless  hundreds  of  times,  that  she  would 
not  look  up  —  and  then,  when  they  had  almost 
passed,  she  turned.  There,  in  the  glow  of  his  forge, 
stood  Chet,  his  face  dead  white,  staring  at  her. 

The  man  beside  her  wondered  why  she  sobbed  so 
bitterly  to  herself. 

Nance  Pelot  knew  that  she  could  never  forget 


106  DABNEY  TODD 

those  eyes,  staring  out  at  her  from  beside  the  fire 
of  the  forge. 

Back  in  Dabney's  shop  it  was  very  quiet.  A 
rigidity  as  of  death  seemed  to  freeze  Chet. 

The  bellows  fell  in  with  a  gulp.  Long  after  the 
car  had  dropped  out  of  sight,  and  the  monotonous 
drumming  of  the  evenly-hitting  motor  had  died  away 
to  an  indistinct  hum,  he  stood  as  cold  and  motion 
less  as  the  anvil  at  which  he  had  been  working.  He 
was  alone.  A  stillness  crept  in  with  the  gathering 
shadows  of  evening  that  seemed  to  smother  the 
faintly  smoldering  fire  in  the  forge.  After  a  while 
the  hands  that  held  the  hammer  and  tongs  relaxed. 
The  tools  fell  to  the  floor,  sending  up  a  clatter  that 
echoed  and  reechoed  in  the  silence. 

When  finally  Chet  did  move,  it  was  to  put  out  the 
glowing  coals.  He  stood  for  a  long  time,  staring 
dully  at  the  dead  fire.  Slowly,  little  by  little,  he  be 
gan  to  realize  that  he  was  sick  —  sick  with  a  weari 
ness  that  made  the  task  of  lugging  his  big  body 
homeward  an  undertaking  beyond  his  power  to  per 
form.  His  head  throbbed  until  the  big  shoulders 
sagged  with  the  weight  of  it. 

Night  was  at  hand.  His  father  or  Amos  would 
be  coming  for  him  soon.  Supper  would  be  waiting 
—  Neevey,  his  mother,  watching  for  him.  Supper 


LARRY  SHAYNE  LEADS  TRUMPS     107 

—  food  —  it  seemed  so  useless !  Home  !  It  was 
the  one  place  he  could  not  bear,  just  now  —  Amos' 
happy  face  —  his  mother's  inquiring  eyes.  Slowly 
he  dragged  his  feet  to  the  door,  shut  it  and  dropped 
the  crossbar  into  place. 

He  turned  then,  and  started  off  across  the  back 
pasture.  At  the  gate  he  stopped,  and,  with  unsee 
ing  eyes,  stared  across  the  fields  to  Nance  Pelot's 
home,  a  single  light  gleaming  from  her  kitchen  win 
dow.  Standing  there,  in  the  darkness,  he  drew  one 
of  his  big,  smoke-blackened  hands  across  his  eyes. 
It  came  away  wet. 

"  I  ain't  got  your  manners,  Larry  Shayne,"  he 
muttered,  "  and  I  ain't  got  your  clothes,  your  auto 
or  your  money.  But  you  can't  have  her.  No,  by 
God,  you  shan't!  " 

He  swung  his  two  big  hands  out  in  front  of  him. 

"Not  as  long  as  I  got  these,  you  won't!"  he 
cried.  "You've  got  to  fight  me  for  her!  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

DABNEY   RIDES    THE    GOAT 

WHEN  Cash  Bailey  chugged  into  New 
Canaan  with  his  new  motor  delivery- 
wagon,  that  week,  it  created  a  sensation, 
and  even  served  in  a  way  to  bring  Chet  back  to  his 
feet.  The  mechanical  bent  of  his  nature  was  too 
strong  for  him  not  to  show  some  enthusiasm  over 
Cash's  new  car.  The  engine  was  thirty-five  horse 
power,  Cash  proudly  asserted  to  the  group  gath 
ered  about  his  machine,  and  it  could  climb  hills  like 
a  fly  running  up  a  window-pane.  The  body  had 
been  Cash's  own  idea,  and  he  had  fitted  up  the  in 
terior  to  resemble  a  tiny  store. 

"  It's  a  Gideon,"  he  explained  to  Dabney  Todd,  as 
he  ran  the  car  up  a  narrow  driveway  from  the  state 
road.  "  Horses  are  too  slow  for  me.  I  have  to 
get  around  in  a  hurry  now  that  my  trade  has  grown 
so  big.  This  car  cost  a  thousand  dollars,  but  it  will 
pay  for  itself  'fore  snow  flies." 

"  Looks  all  right,"  observed  Dabney,  in  slow  ap- 

108 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        109 

praisal.  "  This  is  certainly  the  age  of  improve 
ments,  an'  we  got  to  keep  up  with  'em  or  git  left  at 
the  post,  whether  it's  in  travel,  or  religion,  or 
politics,  or  what-not.  Nice  machine,  all  right. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  she's  a  lot  faster  than  any  car 
in  town." 

"Well,  rather!"  was  the  grinning  response. 
"  I'll  leave  her  here  while  I  go  round  with  some  of 
these  dress  patterns  I  have  orders  for." 

"It's  safe  to  leave  her,  I  s'pose?"  asked  Dab- 
ney. 

"  Sure !  An  automobile  will  always  stay  put. 
That's  one  of  its  advantages  over  a  horse.  It  ain't 
everlastin'ly  pullin'  at  the  tie-rope,  tryin'  to  break 
loose." 

Cash  walked  away,  his  arms  full  of  dry  goods, 
while  Dabney  Todd  continued  to  gaze  at  the  new 
motor  car,  on  either  side  of  which  was  emblazoned, 
in  large  gold  letters,  "  Cash  Bailey,  the  Bargain 
Man." 

"  Wa'al,  he  may  git  his  money  out  of  it,"  remarked 
Titus  Showell.  "  But  a  hoss  is  good  enough  for  me. 
Say,  Dabney,  why  did  you  let  him  back  up  in  front 
of  the  engine  house?  You  couldn't  git  the  doors 
open  without  him  movin'." 

"  I'm  chief  of  the  New  Canaan  Fire  Company, 


no  DABNEY  TODD 

Tite,"  replied  Dabney  Todd,  with  dignity.  "  I  give 
him  permission  to  put  his  auto  there." 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  there  was  usually  a  group 
inspecting  Cash  Bailey's  new  machine,  and  the  gen 
eral  opinion,  despite  some  adverse  criticisms  —  en 
gendered,  one  might  have  guessed,  by  envy  rather 
than  by  intelligent  understanding,  was  that  she  was  a 
"  hum-dinger." 

It  was  about  dusk  when  Cash,  having  finished  for 
the  day,  sat  smoking  and  gossiping  in  Link  Wat- 
kins'  store.  Cash  realized  the  value  of  social  pop 
ularity.  He  usually  had  a  new  story  whenever  he 
came  into  the  village,  and  always  brought  the  news 
of  the  outside  world  in  a  more  intimate  manner  than 
it  could  be  conveyed  in  even  the  best-edited  news 
paper. 

Suddenly  the  church  bell  clanged;  the  first  stroke 
was  followed  rapidly  by  many  others. 

"By  hokey!  "  cried  Tite  Showell,  springing  to 
his  feet,  regardless  of  his  rheumatism.  "  There's 
the  fire  bell!" 

He  dashed  out  of  the  store,  followed  by  the 
others,  all  members  of  the  volunteer  fire  department. 

"  Looks  as  if  it  might  be  Deacon  Howe's  house 
or  barn,"  cried  Link.  "  It's  over  about  that  way, 
anyhow." 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        in 

Dabney  Todd  had  lingered  at  his  supper,  and  was 
still  in  his  house  when  he  heard  the  bell. 

Neevey  handed  him  his  coat  and  helmet  almost 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  his  chair.  He  put  them 
on  as  he  rushed  to  the  frame  structure  "  a  little  piece 
down  the  road  "  from  his  house,  where  was  kept  the 
old  hand-pump,  or  "  tub  " —  as  gayly  red  and  golden 
as  it  was  inefficient  —  that  New  Canaan  called  its 
fire  engine. 

"  There's  that  auto  of  Cash  Bailey's  right  in  front 
of  the  door!"  he  shouted  to  Chet.  "Help  me 
move  it!  " 

Chet  obeyed  —  or  tried  to.  But  the  two  could 
not  stir  the  cumbersome  machine.  The  other  men, 
from  Link  Watkins',  were  not  yet  in  sight. 

"  That  gol-fired  thing  hadn't  ought  to  be  here !  " 
cried  Dabney,  as  he  stepped  on  the  running-board. 

"You  let  Cash  leave  it!  "  answered  Chet. 

"  More  fool,  I!  "  ejaculated  Dabney.  "  Go  on, 
blame  me  while  the  blamin's  good!  " 

"  Can't  we  move  it,  some  way  or  other?  " 

"  We  will,  or  bust  the  dad-blamed  thing!"  ex 
claimed  Dabney.  "  Know  anythin'  about  automo 
biles?" 

"Not  much.     Why?" 

Dabney's  only  answer  was  to  lean  over  into  the 


H2  DABNEY  TODD 

car  and  inspect  the  control  with  a  thoughtful  eye. 

"  I'll  have  to  git  into  the  drivin'  seat  afore  I  can 
do  anythin',"  he  muttered.  "  Wa'al,  here  goes!" 

He  climbed  in  and  placed  his  two  hands  on  the 
steering  wheel,  as  he  had  seen  motorists  do.  Then, 
as  he  pulled  a  lever,  his  foot  pressed  the  self-starter. 

The  powerful  engine  began  to  turn  over,  slowly. 
All  at  once  the  gas  caught.  Came  a  swift,  drum 
ming  roar  from  the  exhaust. 

Rrrrrawk!  ground  clashing  gears. 

Suddenly,  as  Dabney  clung  desperately  to  the 
wheel,  the  car  gave  a  tremendous  jump  and  started 
straight  through  the  village. 

At  the  bend  in  the  road  it  met  Cash  and  the  men 
from  the  store.  Cash  gave  one  frightened  yell  when 
he  saw  his  new  car  zigzagging  toward  him,  with 
Dabney  —  his  hair  flying  wild  —  madly  "  whoa- 
ing  "  and  "  gee-ing." 

The  sight  of  the  careening  car  froze  most  of  them 
in  their  tracks.  But  Cash,  trying  to  stop  the  flying 
car  with  his  bare  hands,  jumped  directly  in  front  of 
it.  Wildly  waving  his  arms,  he  howled  at  the  top 
of  his  voice: 

"Throw  off  the  switch,  you  old  fool!" 

Right  there  Cash  came  within  an  inch  of  making 
Dabney  his  executioner.  As  the  car  sped  on  in  the 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        113 

gloom,  Link  and  Tite  picked  him  out  of  the  mud. 
The  wind  had  been  knocked  out  of  him  and  he 
showed  a  bruise  on  one  side  of  his  face,  but  in  spite 
of  all  their  efforts,  he  started  off  after  the  fleeing 
machine,  streaking  it  down  the  road  like  a  pursuing 
Nemesis,  in  the  dusk. 

Suddenly  two  long  cones  of  light  shot  out  ahead 
of  the  speeding  monster,  and  red  glow  began  to 
glower  behind  it.  In  some  of  his  frantic  manipu 
lations,  Dabney  had  switched  on  the  electric  lights. 

Chet  had  stared  after  his  father,  as  the  car 
plunged  away.  Then  he  turned  to  the  terrified 
Neevey,  to  reassure  her. 

"  Don't  worry,  mother,"  he  begged.  "  Dad  can 
drive  anythin'.  He'll  be  all  right." 

"  I  know  he  can  drive  anythin'  that  lets  itself  be 
druv,  Chet,"  she  replied,  tearfully.  "  But  an  auty- 
wobile  ain't  got  no  more  sense  than  a  buzz-saw,  an' 
it's  jest  about  as  dangerous.  I'm  goin'  to  hitch  up 
the  bay  mare  an'  skive  along  after  him." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  declared  Chet.  "  There  ain't 
any  fire.  Link  has  found  out  it's  just  Deacon 
Howe's  hired  man  burnin'  some  brush  in  his  yard." 

"  No,  you  won't  go  with  me,  nuther !  I  ain't 
goin'  to  overload  the  mare.  I'll  hook  her  to  the 
runabout,  and  she'll  take  me  along  as  fast  as  that 


ii4  DABNEY  TODD 

left-handed  thrashin'  machine  what's  runnin'  away 
with  y'r  father !  " 

Neevey  and  Chet  ran  to  the  barn  and  in  a  jiffy 
threw  the  harness  on  to  the  mare. 

"  Let  me  go,  too !  "  pleaded  Chet,  once  more. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  refused,  clambering  into  the  high 
runabout  —  the  vehicle  Dabney  generally  used  when 
he  had  to  drive  to  the  city  or  to  the  scene  of  one 
of  the  farm  auctions  at  which  he  officiated. 

Dabney  was  long  since  out  of  sight.  Minerva 
stopped  at  Link  Watkins'  store  and  asked  which 
way  he  had  gone. 

"  Down  the  north  road,"  volunteered  Spencer 
Howe,  who,  with  Tite  Showe'll,  Paul  Cuddeback 
and  others,  had  come  back  to  the  store,  after  watch 
ing  Cash  out  of  sight.  "  He  was  swingin'  from  one 
side  of  the  road  to  the  other,  an'  he  come  nigh 
runnin'  into  Joe  Pelot's  blacksmith  shop  as  he  went 
around  the  corner.  I  was  kinder  s'prised  to  see  him 
drivin'  a  car.  Dinged  if  I  ever  thought  he  c'd 
do  it." 

"  Wa'al,  he'll  tame  the  dod-rotted  thing  afore  he's 
done  with  it,"  opined  Tite.  "  Don't  s'pose  it's  as 
hard  as  breakin'  a  colt,  at  that." 

Neevey  heard  this  much  as  she  clucked  to  her 
mare  and  sped  away. 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        115 

"  They  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  it,"  she  mut 
tered.  ;'  They  forget  that  an  autywobile  ain't  hu 
man." 

Up  one  hill  and  down  another  sped  the  carriage. 

"Gently,  Diamond!"  Neevey  cautioned. 

The  mare  swerved  a  little  as  she  approached  a 
bridge  over  a  creek.  Something  was  thundering 
toward  Neevey,  with  nothing  visible  but  two  great 
flaming  eyes  that  cast  furrows  of  light  straight  into 
her  face. 

"  Heaven  save  us !  It's  comin' ! "  shouted 
Neevey,  in  terror. 

She  had  just  time  to  rein  to  one  side,  when  the 
monster  with  the  flaming  eyes  roared  down  upon 
her. 

Neevey  never  knew  how  she  escaped  being  tossed 
into  the  air  and  smashed  to  smithereens.  The 
bridge  was  only  just  wide  enough  for  two  vehicles 
to  pass,  even  when  driven  carefully.  With  the  big 
motor  car  sweeping  down  at  thirty  miles  an  hour, 
and  a  man  at  the  wheel  who  never  had  been  in  an 
automobile  before,  it  was  only  the  mercy  of  a  kind 
Providence  that  prevented  disaster. 

"Land  sakes!  It's  Dabney,  goin'  back!"  cried 
she.  He  must,  she  understood,  have  struck  to  the 
left  into  the  Woodstock  road,  and  so  have  come 


n6  DABNEY  TODD 

round  through  "  Pinhook "  village  into  the  main 
road  to  New  Canaan  again.  How  he  had  ever 
made  those  turns,  alive,  she  could  not  imagine;  but 
little  that  mattered.  He  had  made  them,  and  was 
still  master  of  the  machine  —  that  was  enough  for 
Neevey. 

It  required  a  minute  or  so  to  turn  the  excited  mare, 
and  was  a  risky  business.  But  Neevey  had  been 
used  to  driving  all  her  life,  and  Diamond  knew  her 
voice.  So  she  made  the  turn  with  no  other  dam 
age  than  scraping  some  paint  off  one  wheel  and 
scratching  the  back  of  the  runabout  against  the  fence. 
'Whoa,  Diamond!  Foller  that  red  light  goin' 
up  the  hill !  Land  o'  love !  How  it  does  seesaw !  " 

A  crash  of  racked  gears!     The  red  light  stopped. 

For  once,  Neevey  threw  all  caution  to  the  winds, 
and  whipped  Diamond  to  a  gallop  down  the  hill. 

Just  as  she  neared  the  bottom,  the  red  light,  which 
had  been  stationary,  shot  forward  again,  disappear 
ing  round  a  bend  in  the  road. 

Neevey  went  after  it,  and  saw  that  it  was  rushing 
down  toward  the  corner,  where  Pelot's  blacksmith 
shop  filled  the  angle. 

"  Which  way  will  he  turn  —  if  he  turns  at  all?  " 
Neevey  shrieked,  in  her  panic  talking  continuously 
to  Diamond,  and  alternately  standing  up  and  sitting 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        117 

down  in  the  speeding  runabout.  "  If  he  takes  the 
east,  he'll  slam  plumb  into  Link  Watkins's,  an'  if 
he  goes  west,  there  ain't  nothin'  in  front  but 
Showell's  ice  meadow  — 'less  he  was  to  make  a  short 
turn  south  jest  afore  he  gits  there.  Nobody  can 
tell  me  Dab  can  do  that  in  an  autymobile.  He  can 
turn  on  a  ten-cent  piece  in  a  buggy,  but  this  is  diff'rent 
—  awful  diff'rent!" 

An  incandescent  light  hung  overhead,  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  road  where  it  forked  in  three  different  di 
rections;  one  of  the  few  public  lights  in  the  village. 

A  group  of  men,  with  two  boys  —  one  of  whom 
was  Benny  Zepp  —  were  huddled  to  one  side  of  the 
thoroughfare,  where  the  glow  of  the  electric  light 
shone  on  them.  They  were  respectfully  giving  the 
oncoming  motor  car  the  right  of  way,  no  matter 
which  direction  it  might  take. 

"  By  heck !  Dab  has  a  good  grip  on  the  lines, 
but  I  swan  to  man  I  don't  believe  he  can  git  her 
down  to  a  walk,"  observed  Tite  Showell.  "  She 
has  a  gait  on  her  like  a  quarter-horse.  Look  out, 
boys!" 

The  warning  was  uttered  in  a  high-pitched  yell, 
for  Dabney  Todd  had  reached  the  forks  and  was 
hurtling  toward  the  onlookers. 

"  He's  goin'  south!  "  shouted  Spencer  Howe. 


n8  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Don't  you  think  it!  He's  headed  west!  "  cor 
rected  Link  Watkins.  "  He'll  hit  your  fence, 
Tite." 

"  Not  so's  you'd  notice  it !  "  came  from  Showell. 
"  By  jings,  he's  goin'  to  your  place!  " 

Titus  Showell  was  right.  After  a  second  of  an 
guishing  uncertainty,  during  which  it  seemed  as  if 
the  unwieldy  machine  would  jump  the  wide  ditch 
into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  of  excited  spectators,  it 
veered  abruptly  east  and  slewed  toward  the  store. 

"  Git  back,  Dory!  "  roared  Link  Watkins,  as  his 
assistant,  Dory  Benton,  came  doddering  out  of  the 
front  door.  "  Give  him  room!  " 

It  is  possible  that  Dory  had  moved  faster  in  the 
course  of  his  life  than  he  did  at  this  instant.  But 
none  of  the  men  who  watched  him  could  remember 
the  time.  He  dashed  around  the  corner  of  the 
store  and  took  a  flying  leap  down  the  steep  bank  into 
the  compost-heap  outside  Link's  stable. 

A  roar  of  mingled  laughter,  advice  and  warning 
burst  from  the  assembled  onlookers. 

The  motor-car  —  with  Dabney  Todd  tugging 
valiantly,  but  blindly,  at  the  steering-wheel,  and  pull 
ing  at  every  lever  in  sight  in  the  hope  of  stopping  — 
was  close  behind  Dory.  Unconsciously,  his  foot 
was  pressing  the  accelerator  pedal. 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT         119 

"  Whoa!  "  yelled  Dabney. 

But  a  motor  car  doesn't  take  any  heed  of 
"  Whoa !  "  If  it  did,  Dabney  would  have  come  to 
a  halt  long  before,  for  he  had  been  shouting  the 
order  ever  since  he  had  first  found  the  machine  was 
going  its  own  way,  regardless  of  his  wishes. 

He  made  a  frantic  grab  at  a  lever,  missed  it,  and 
threw  all  his  strength  onto  the  steering-wheel,  giving 
it  a  mighty  wrench.  Next  moment,  Link  Watkins' 
horse-rail,  to  which  customers  hitched  while  inside 
the  store,  stood  on  end.  Then  it  burst  into  splinters. 

The  spectators,  forgetting  to  laugh,  ducked  for 
cover  as  though  a  bomb  had  been  exploded  among 
them. 

Pieces  of  wood,  clods  of  earth  and  a  shower  of 
stones,  mingled  with  shirts,  dress  goods  and  bolts 
of  ribbon,  fell  all  over  Dabney,  rattling  on  the  seat 
by  his  side  and  against  the  wind-shield. 

He  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  but  still  maintained 
his  wild  grip  on  the  wheel,  as  the  car  circled  in 
front  of  the  store.  Even  if  he  had  run  into  an 
earthquake,  instinct  told  him  that  his  only  hope  lay 
in  the  steering  apparatus. 

"  Whee,  Skinny!"  shouted  the  boy  with  Benny 
Zepp.  "  Look  at  him  spinnin' !  It's  better'n  a 
three  ring  circus!  " 


120  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Sh'd  say  it  is !  "  shouted  Benny.  "  You  never 
seen  nothin'  like  that  in  one!  " 

"Dabby!"  screamed  Neevey,  from  her  seat  in 
the  runabout,  as  she  controlled  her  plunging  mare. 
"  Git  away  from  that  store,  will  you?  Stop  turnin' 
'round!" 

This  was  good  advice  as  far  as  it  went.  But 
Dabney  neither  heard  nor  heeded  it.  He  couldn't. 
The  automobile,  racheting  and  thumping,  as  it 
described  such  narrow  circles  in  the  road  that  it 
threatened  every  moment  to  turn  turtle. 

Neevey  caught  glimpses  of  Dabney's  determined 
face  at  intervals  as  he  faced  the  arc  light.  She  saw 
that  he  was  holding  to  the  wheel  with  the  grimness 
of  desperation. 

"He'll  conquer  that  whirligig  yet  —  if  he  ain't 
killed!  "  she  muttered,  through  her  teeth.  "  But  I 
wish  he'd  drive  straight  one  way  or  the  other. 
Spinnin'  'roun'  without  gittin'  nowhere  is  plumb 
foolishness." 

'  Whoa  !  "  gasped  Dabney,  again. 

He  twisted  the  wheel  in  another  direction.  The 
machine,  with  a  series  of  deafening  reports  that  no 
body  could  account  for,  darted  toward  Neevey  and 
the  others  who  had  been  viewing  the  performance 
from  what  they  deemed  a  safe  distance. 


Down  the  street  raged  the  motor  car,  and  passing 
Pelot's  blacksmith  shop,  took  the  west  road  at  a 
smart  clip. 

"  Look,  Skinny !  He's  goin'  to  drive  into  his 
own  hitch-barn !  "  cried  the  other  boy,  Gabe  Showell, 
youngest  son  of  Titus.  "  An'  there's  Chet  Todd 
waitin'  for  him." 

"Aw!"  retorted  Benny,  scornfully.  "Chet 
couldn't  hold  that  there  auto.  'Tain't  like  a  hoss. 
'Sides,  he's  goin'  right  down  the  road  to  your  place." 

"  If  he  don't  stop  'fore  he  gits  there,  he'll  be  in 
the  ice  meadow,"  was  the  response.  "  They's  a 
short  turn,  but  he  won't  be  able  to  make  it  with  that 
there  — " 

A  splintering,  tearing  crash  finished  his  sentence 
for  him. 

Dabney  had  not  made  the  short  turn. 

Instead,  he  had  shot  straight  ahead,  against  the 
heavy  rail  fence  which  separated  Titus  Showell's  ice 
field  from  the  public  road. 

The  meadow  lay  low,  and,  when  heavy  rains  came, 
was  mostly  under  water.  As  cold  weather  ap 
proached,  Tite  Showell  turned  more  water  in,  with 
the  result  of  a  pretty  fair  crop  of  ice.  In  the  spring 
he  generally  planted  corn  there. 

No  corn  had  been  planted  yet,  however,  and  there 


122  DABNEY  TODD 

was  water  enough  in  the  big  ten-acre  field  to  make 
it  look  like  a  lake. 

Crash!     Splash! 

Hardly  had  the  motor  torn  its  way  through  the 
fence  than  it  was  half  hidden  in  water.  The  wheels 
bogged  down  in  the  mud,  as  the  machine  came  to  a 
stop. 

"  Mercy !  He's  killed  1  "  screamed  Neevey,  as 
she  galloped  her  mare  to  the  fence  and  pulled  up. 
"  It's  as  dark  as  a  cellar  in  that  field,  an'  there's 
three  foot  o'  water  an'  mud.  Dabby!  " 

The  last  word  was  emitted  in  a  frantic  shriek  that 
Gabe  Showell  declared  to  Benny  Zepp  could  be  heard 
up  at  the  church. 

''What's  the  matter?"  growled  Dabney's  voice 
out  of  the  blackness.  "  Don't  worry,  Neevey. 
I've  halted  the  darned  thing,  anyhow.  Git  a  lan 
tern!" 

Not  one,  but  five,  lanterns  were  already  bobbing 
down  the  road.  As  they  approached,  two  of  them 
were  seen  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Chet  and  Amos  Todd 
respectively,  while  Joe  Pelot,  Spencer  Howe  and 
Lije  Conklin  each  carried  one. 

There  was  light  enough  now  to  see  that  Dabney 
was  standing  up  in  the  machine,  looking  for  a  way 
to  get  out  of  the  field  without  wading  through  the 


DABNEY  RIDES  THE  GOAT        123 

water.     The  wind-shield  was  smashed  to  nothing. 

"  Good  thing  I  didn't  cut  myself  on  that  blamed 
glass !  "  remarked  Dabney,  as  he  climbed  over  the 
back  of  the  car.  "  Give  me  a  hand,  Chet,  so's  I 
can  jump  clear." 

He  made  a  masterly  leap  that  almost  brought  him 
ashore.  Half-wading,  half-dragged  by  Chet,  he 
reached  safety.  Minerva's  arms  were  round  him, 
on  the  instant,  mindless  of  mud  and  water,  and  her 
motherly,  wifely  love  was  cherishing  him,  so  miracu 
lously  restored  to  her  after  dire  peril. 

While  they  drove  home  together,  to  have  Neevey 
look  him  over  for  possible  personal  injuries,  Chet, 
Amos  and  Lije,  with  a  team  of  horses,  drew  the  car 
out  of  the  mud,  so  that  Chet  could  determine  how 
badly  it  was  damaged. 

By  the  time  they  had  the  car  back  into  the  road 
Cash  came  panting  up.  He  shook  his  head  despair 
ingly,  as  he  stood  there  looking  at  his  machine,  the 
perspiration  streaming  down  his  face  on  to  his  mud- 
stained  clothes. 

"  Ain't  nothin'  the  matter  with  it,  Cash,"  ventured 
Chet,  "  'cept  the  wind-shield's  broke.  An'  I  can  fix 
that  if  you  git  me  the  glass." 

"  'S'all  right,  Chet,"  Cash  gasped  between  breaths. 
"  Don't  mind  the  dog-goned  thing  nohow.  I  got 


i24  DABNEY  TODD 

* 

her  insured,  and  I'm  the  agent  for  the  company, 

and  the  claim-adjuster,  too.  So  I  don't  see  how 
I'm  going  to  lose  by  the  deal,  no  matter  how  it 
turns  out.  I'm  a  sure  winner,  either  way.  But  I 
ain't  hankering  after  chasing  another  one  o'  them 
things  half  way  across  the  county  and  back.  If  that 
darn  fool  dad  of  yours  had  been  a  little  more  ac 
curate,  I'd  have  collected  on  them  accident  policies 
o'  mine  —  or  been  beatin'  a  harp  in  heaven  by  now." 


CHAPTER  X 

NEEVEY   LENDS    A    HAND 

THE  delicacy  and  reserve  with  which  Larry 
Shayne  now  treated  Nance  surprised  the 
girl.     His  patience,   never  a   virtue  with 
him,  suggested  strongly  that  he  had  talked  things 
over  with  his  father.     Larry  had  not  been  in  New 
Canaan  since  he  had  brought  her  home  that  first 
night. 

Joe,  her  father,  showed  little  surprise  at  her  ab 
sence  that  evening,  but  there  was  a  dumb  appeal  in 
his  colorless  eyes  that  seemed  to  beg  forgiveness 
for  the  yoke  he  had  placed  on  her. 

Nance  went  back  and  forth  now  on  the  stage,  stay 
ing  each  night  in  Redburn.  If  the  villagers  ques 
tioned  her  unduly,  it  was  only  because  she  kept  her 
business  a  secret.  Secrecy  and  concealment  were 
synonymous  to  them,  and  people  only  concealed  that 
which  was  bad.  Their  logic  was  plain. 

Dabney  was  one  of  the  few  who  refused  to  be- 
125 


126  DABNEY  TODD 

lieve  ill  of  the  girl  merely  because  she  said  nothing 
about  her  affairs. 

"  I  reckon  it  ain't  nobody's  kill-or-cure  but  hers," 
he  stoutly  affirmed  to  the  circle  of  country-store 
debaters.  "  Other  people's  secrets  ain't  no  to-do 
of  mine,  as  I  can  see.  I  got  business  of  my  own  — 
which  is  more  than  some  can  say  that  are  always  in 
everybody's  else.  An'  as  for  secrets,  let  me  tell  you 
this,  nobody's  so  fond  of  'em  as  them  that  ain't  got 
no  idee  in  this  world  of  keepin'  'em.  Most  people 
want  to  git  holt  of  secrets  for  the  same  reason  a 
spendthrift  wants  money — for  purposes  of  circu 
lation!" 

The  girl's  absence  from  the  choir  the  following 
Sunday  had  sent  Blake  to  her,  and  Nance  had  quite 
simply  told  him  she  was  working  in  Redburn,  and 
that  her  work  precluded  the  possibility  of  her  giving 
any  time  to  the  choir  rehearsals. 

Blake,  be  it  said  to  his  credit,  was  sure  enough  of 
Nance  not  to  invite  her  confidence  against  her  will, 
nor  to  ask  things  she  left  unsaid.  Still,  he  did  se 
cure  her  promise  to  be  there  at  least  on  Sundays, 
satisfied  that  she  would  come  well  enough  prepared, 
anyhow,  to  do  her  part. 

Blake  now  had  other  worries.  The  boy  choir 
was  not  progressing  as  he  had  hoped.  The  vest- 


NEEVEY  LENDS  A  HAND          127 

ments  had  arrived  during  the  week,  and  Lester  and 
he  had  had  their  hands  full,  getting  the  choir  into 
shape. 

It  had  been  necessary  to  call  in  the  assistance  of 
some  one  skilled  with  needle  and  thread,  and  Neevey 
had  graciously  volunteered.  Blake,  returning  to 
the  manse,  found  her  busy  with  needle  and  pins,  re 
fitting  a  cassock  to  the  slim  shoulders  of  Gabe 
Showell. 

Neevey  had  become  very  enthusiastic  about  the 
choir,  a  state  of  mind  that  Blake  was  happy  to  note. 

"  We  certainly  shall  owe  a  great  deal  to  you,  Mrs. 
Todd,  when  the  choir  marches  up  the  aisle  next  Sun 
day,"  said  he. 

Neevey  smiled  at  him. 

'*  This  is  the  first  time  you  ever  had  anything  of 
the  kind  in  New  Canaan,  isn't  it?  "  he  went  on. 

'Well,  no  —  not  exactly,"  she  answered,  slowly. 
"  One  time,  three  years  ago,  it  was  tried  —  but  in  a 
diff'rent  way.  We  had  quite  a  choir  in  the  church, 
those  days." 

"  Yes?     What  kind  of  a  choir  was  it?  " 

;'  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  believe  the  name 
of  it  is  in  the  dictionary.  Mr.  Wilbur  organized  it. 
He  was  our  organist  then.  There  were  a  whole 
lot  of  little  girls  in  the  choir  —  nice,  feeble  little 


iz8     ,  DABNEY  TODD 

things.  But  you  couldn't  hear  one  of  'em  sing  with 
a  stethoscope." 

Blake  laughed  heartily. 

"  Strange,"  he  smiled,  "  the  ideas  some  people 
have  of  what  will  help  the  church.  And  it  isn't  a 
question  of  their  faithfulness,  either." 

"  No,"  agreed  Neevey.  "  I  know  folks  who  has 
allers  been  that  way,  as  Christian  as  you  could  make 
'em,  but  rather  loose  in  the  head  when  it  come  to 
doin'  things  for  the  church." 

"  For  instance?  "  Blake  lured  her  on. 

"  Well,  I  remember  one  Thanksgivin',  back  'bout 
ten  years  ago,  there  was  a  skittish  old  maid,  by  the 
name  of  Spafford,  livin'  here  in  town,  an'  she  was 
allers  goin'  on  'bout  art  in  the  higher  form, —  if  you 
get  what  I  mean,  as  Hazel  Devine  says.  An'  so  we 
was  bluffed  into  lettin'  her  plan  the  decorations  for 
the  Thanksgivin'  services.  She  come  over  for  me 
in  the  afternoon,  to  let  me  have  a  sort  of  dress-re 
hearsal-look  at  what  she'd  accomplished.  I  tell  you, 
she'd  jest  turned  her  art  wide  open  an'  jumped  for 
safety.  She'd  filled  the  chancel  with  stacks  of  wheat, 
punkins  an'  apples,  until  the  place  looked  more  like 
a  barn  than  a  House  of  God.  Then  she  put  some 
nice  bunches  of  celery  in  the  vases  on  the  altar,  and 
jus'  naturally  filled  the  place  up  from  top  to  bottom. 


NEEVEY  LENDS  A  HAND          129 

She  asked  me  what  I  thought  about  it.  I  said  that  if 
she  would  hang  a  festoon  of  onions  across  the  front 
of  the  altar,  with  a  picked  chicken  at  each  end,  the 
thing  would  be  a  perfect  dream." 

"  Rather  cruel  of  you,  Mrs.  Todd,"  Blake 
summed,  shaking  his  head,  but  still  laughing. 
"  What  did  she  say  to  that?  " 

Neevey  chuckled. 

"  Why,  she  got  so  mad  she  nearly  lost  her  re 
ligion.  She  allowed  that  if  her  efforts  to  uplift  the 
artistic  sense  of  the  community  by  appropriate  re 
ligious  symbolism,  or  somethin'  to  that  effect,  wasn't 
appreciated,  the  best  place  she  could  find  in  the 
church  would  be  outside  it.  How  was  that  for 
high  ?  Jest  as  I  said  at  first :  You  never  can  have 
any  fun  with  some  folks.  They  dunno  how  to  take 
a  joke.  I'm  allers  sorry  for  folks  as  is  born  with 
out  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous.  Life  must  be  an  aw 
ful  grind  to  them.  Next  to  a  new  tooth-brush,  or  a 
liver  pill,  a  wholesome  sense  of  the  ridiculous  makes 
you  feel  better'n  anythin'  else.  At  any  rate,  it  helps 
you  over  a  lot  of  hard  places  in  life,  an'  keeps  you 
from  makin'  a  fool  of  yourself." 

Dabney  came  for  her  later,  and  as  they  walked 
home  Blake  gazed  after  them  admiringly.  They 
were  so  surely  what  they  seemed  —  honest,  hard- 


i3o  DABNEY  TODD 

headed  but  tender-hearted  country  folks.  Close  in 
money  matters,  perhaps  but  kindly  withal;  and  Blake 
hesitated  a  moment  for  the  word  to  complete  his 
thought.  Efficient!  Yes,  that  was  it  —  efficient! 

Chet  had  seen  Nance,  but  their  talk  had  been  be 
side  the  mark.  Nance  had  managed  that.  It  had 
not  been  lack  of  courage  that  held  Chet  back.  He 
knew  what  he  must  say  to  her  some  day,  but  he  re 
alized  that  he  did  not  now  possess  the  tact  to  do  it 
gracefully.  He  knew  also  that  Nance  had  given 
him  little  reason  to  think  his  interfering  with  her 
affairs  would  be  received  any  too  kindly. 

Dabney,  wiser  than  most,  kept  the  boy  busy  from 
morning  till  night,  certain  that  hard  work  was  the 
best  thing  for  people  "  off  their  feed,"  as  he  put  it. 
Dabney,  supreme  when  the  occasion  demanded,  had 
temporarily  silenced  Neevey's  fears  about  their  son 
by  going  over  to  see  Joe  Pelot  himself,  and  by  veri 
fying  his  belief  that  Larry  Shayne  was  trying  to 
purchase  Nance's  farm.  Once  he  could  make  sure 
of  this  all-important  fact,  he  knew  that  with  a  little 
time  and  patience  he  could  discover  the  motive  for 
Shayne's  peculiar  activities. 

Of  all  this  Chet  knew  nothing.  And  Dabney 
rightly  intended  that  he  should  not.  If  Chet  wanted 


NEEVEY  LENDS  A  HAND          131 

the  girl,  he  would,  according  to  his  father's  creed, 
have  to  make  his  own  fight  for  her.  Dabney  Todd 
was  farsighted  enough  to  realize  that  it  was  on  the 
girl  herself  that  Chet  must  decide  —  unaided. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  HOSS    SENSE  " 

TAKING  his  regular  turn  at  the  forge  with 
Amos,  it  so  happened  that  Chet  was  in  the 
shop  when  Lije  Conklin  brought  his  horse 
to  be  shod.  Dabney  and  his  two  sons  looked  it 
over  suspiciously.  All  three  knew  horses.  This 
one  was  a  tall  roan,  with  a  long  neck,  white-rimmed, 
evil  eyes  and  an  aggressively  upstanding  mane  and 
tail.  Lije  had  bought  him  only  a  few  days  before 
at  an  auction  —  and  if  life  has  any  grab-bag  chances 
to  offer,  surely  it  is  at  the  horse-auction,  whether  in 
city  or  country. 

The  roan  evidently  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
he   did  not  want  to  be   shod;   for,   as   Amos   ap 
proached,  he  lashed  out  with  his  hind  foot  viciously. 
"Hello!"  exclaimed  Amos.     "He's  insulted  if 
you  even  look  at  him.     Mean,  ain't  he,  Lije?  " 

"  He's  got  me  plumb  buffaloed,"  confessed  Lije, 
picking  up  a  hammer  from  a  bench.     "  I'll  knock  his 

132 


"HOSS  SENSE"  133 

durned  head  off  if  he  don't  behave."  Then,  to  the 
horse,  commandingly :  u  Here,  you  !  What's  the 
trouble?" 

Lije  was  going  forward  in  a  dignified  way,  but  all 
his  dignity  was  shivered  to  splinters,  as  the  roan 
went  for  him  with  both  heels  at  once. 

"  I'm  through!  "  confessed  Lije.  "  See  what  you 
can  do  with  him,  Amos." 

Amos  was  game.  He  went  up  to  the  animal  on 
one  side,  while  Lije  tried  to  get  within  reach  of  his 
head  on  the  other.  The  roan  was  vigilant  and  both 
were  compelled  to  jump  back  out  of  the  danger  zone, 
but  not  before  he  had  kicked  the  hammer  out  of 
Lije's  grasp. 

"Almost  got  you  that  time,  Lije!"  remarked 
Dabney,  as  he  came  into  the  shop. 

"  Took  the  skin  off'n  a  finger,"  growled  Lije. 
"  He's  goin'  to  pull  away  from  that  wall,  too. 
Wouldn't  s'prise  me  a  hull  lot  if  he  took  the  wall 
with  him." 

"  He's  a  jim-dandy,  ain't  he?  "  commented  Amos. 
"  Acts  like  we'd  have  to  hoist  him  into  the  rack  if 
ever  we  cal'late  to  git  them  shoes  off  him  —  say 
nothin'  'bout  puttin'  on  new  ones." 

"  That's  what,"  assented  Lije.  "  He's  the  peski 
est  goat  I  ever  tried  to  handle.  Looks  like  he  don't 


i34  DABNEY  TODD 

cal'late  to  have  you  do  nothin'  with  him,  nohow." 

"  Oh!  we'll  fix  him  up,  all  right,"  Dabney  assured 
him;  "Amos  ain't  afraid  o'  nothin'  they  bring  in." 

"  I'll  bet  a  cooky  that  in  his  best  days  Daddy'd 
have  stood  back  an'  thought  awhile  afore  he'd  ha' 
tackled  an  old  he-lion  like  that,"  thought  Amos. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Tite  Showell  and 
Spencer  Howe  sauntered  over  from  Link  Watkins' 
store  and  wisely  looked  the  horse  over. 

'  'Pears  like  that  roan's  givin'  you  boys  a  heap  o' 
trouble,"  remarked  Spencer.  "  Queer  how  a  hoss 
will  keep  a-trouncin'  around  an'  cuttin'  up,  when  he 
might  know  he'll  have  to  give  in  at  last." 

"That's  so,"  sniffed  Tite  Showell.  "When  a 
hoss  has  to  have  shoes,  they're  goin'  to  be  fixed  on 
him  somehow  or  'nother.  If  they  ain't  no  other 
way,  I  recommend  you  lay  him  on  his  back  an'  clamp 
his  legs  in  a  vise,  so's  he  can't  kick.  That  ought  to 
hold  him." 

"  I  wouldn't  talk  like  that,  Tite,"  Dabney  said 
dissentingly.  "  Don't  sound  right.  An'  they  ain't 
no  call  for  the  Deacon  to  go  into  a  laughin'-gas  fit 
over  it,  nuther." 

"  Oh,  I  dunno,"  retorted  Spence,  nettled.  "  I 
thought  what  Tite  said  was  real  funny.  An'  it 
comes  purty  nigh  bein'  true,  as  well." 


"HOSS  SENSE"  135 

;  'Tain't  true ! "  declared  Dabney,  sharply. 
"  'Bout  that  roan  or  no  other  hoss.  S'fur's  I  see, 
Lije  an'  Amos  ain't  goin'  the  right  way  to  git  him 
where  they  want  him.  Trouble  is  they  don't  study 
him  nowheres  but  in  his  hind  feet.  They  ain't  no 
logic  in  them.  If  you  want  to  know  what  to  do  with 
a  hoss  what's  actin'  contrairy,  go  to  his  head  an' 
git  at  what's  in  his  mind.  'Course  that  ain't  no  ways 
easy.  I  ain't  sayin'  it  is." 

"  You  bet  it  ain't !  "  put  in  Chet,  soberly.  "  No," 
he  went  on.  "  A  horse  can  think  of  only  one  thing 
at  a  time  —  an'  mos'  gen'ally  he's  thinkin'  of  some 
dummed  thing  you  don't  expect." 

"  That's  gospel  truth,"  Howe  agreed.  "  It's  as 
true  as  the  comin'  o'  spring.  The  wust  of  a  hoss 
is  that  as  soon  as  he  thinks  o'  somethin',  he  goes 
right  ahead  an'  does  it,  an'  if  you  don't  have  a  tight 
line  on  him,  you  may  go  over  the  plow-handles  or 
the  dash  of  the  buggy  —  whichever  you  happen  to 
be  drivin' —  afore  he  changes  his  mind,  or  you  find 
out  what  he's  thinkin'  about." 

"  Hosses  is  always  changin'  what  little  mind  they 
got,"  put  in  Tite  Showell.  "  Of  all  the  dum  crit 
ters  on  earth,  they're  the  dumdest.  The  power  they 
give,  for  the  feed  they  git,  makes  'em  the  most  ex 
pensive  of  all  motors,  an'  they  kill  more  human 


136  DABNEY  TODD 

bein's  a  year  than  any  other  animal.  Don't  talk 
hoss  to  me!  " 

"  This  blamed  roan  has  been  actin'  up  like 
a  groundhog  with  his  tail  in  a  trap,  dad,"  put  Amos, 
in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "  You  see  how  he  dum  nigh 
killed  Lije  a  while  ago.  If  he'll  take  my  advice, 
he'll  sell  him  back  to  the  man  he  bought  him  of,  or 
saw  him  off  on  some  one  else  that  wants  somethin' 
with  a  dash  o'  cussedness  in  him." 

Dabney  Todd  walked  slowly  toward  the  horse, 
facing  him,  and  careful  not  to  make  any  abrupt 
movement. 

The  roan  rolled  his  eyes,  showing  a  larger  rim 
of  white  than  ever;  at  the  same  time  the  breath  came 
faster  from  the  dilated  nostrils,  and  he  quivered 
nervously. 

"  Who-a,  babe !  "  soothed  Dabney.  "  I  ain't 
goin'  to  hurt  ye.  They  been  gittm'  ye  all  excited, 
ain't  they?  That's  the  hull  trouble.  You're  some 
high-strung,  an'  you  don't  want  shoes  on  ye  'less 
you're  sure  it  ain't  goin'  to  pain  that  sore  foot  o' 
your'n." 

"Sore  foot?"  cried  Lije,  in  surprise.  "Is  any- 
thin'  wrong  with  him  that  a-way?  " 

"  Off  hind  foot  been  cut  with  wire  or  somethin'," 
returned  Dabney.  "  I  seen  the  blood  soon  as  I 


"  HOSS  SENSE  "  137 

come  in.  'Tain't  nothin'  much,  but  it's  enough  to 
make  him  skeery  when  you  go  to  tetch  it." 

By  this  time  Dabney  was  near  enough  to  the  horse 
to  reach  out  and  touch  him,  stroking  his  nose  gently. 

"  There !  Ye  needn't  back  away.  This  ain't 
goin'  to  do  ye  no  harm.  Once  ye  git  it  into  ye  that 
you're  among  friends,  you'll  skitter  right  down  an' 
be  good.  I  know  ye  will." 

Dabney  drew  closer  and  pushed  up  the  horse's 
lip,  to  look  at  his  teeth.  He  did  this  from  force 
of  habit,  almost  without  realizing  what  he  was  about. 

"H'm!  You're  young,  ain't  ye?  Only  risin' 
eight.  Couldn't  expect  ye  to  act  like  you  was 
eighteen.  But  you've  had  enough  shoes  nailed  on  to 
know  it  ain't  no  painful  operation.  Lemme  look 
at  that  sore  hock.  Say,  Chet!  Bring  some  warm 
water  an'  a  sponge." 

While  Chet  retired  to  the  stable  for  the  things 
his  father  wanted,  the  latter  stooped  and  very  gently 
ran  his  hand  down  the  roan's  hind  leg  —  first,  how 
ever,  obtaining  a  firm  grip  on  the  tail,  to  hold  it 
down. 

"  A  hoss  can't  kick  without  liftin'  his  tail,"  he  ob 
served,  quietly.  "  Not  that  this  one  is  aimin'  to 
kick  no  more,  now  he's  quieted  down." 

"  I  wouldn't  trust  him,"  grunted  Lije. 


i38  DABNEY  TODD 

"  No,  you  wouldn't  trust  him  —  an'  that's  most 
of  the  trouble,"  rejoined  Dabney.  "  Don't  you 
think  he  knows  you're  suspicious  of  him  —  an'  afraid 
of  him?  It  don't  do  to  go  nigh  a  hoss  feelin'  that 
way,  if  you  want  him  to  do  what  you  want.  You 
couldn't  git  a  man  to  be  wuth  a  durn  to  you  if  he 
knowed  you  didn't  like  him  an'  was  afraid  to  trust 
him.  An'  I  am  tellin'  you  that  hosses  is  pow'ful  like 
men  —  on'y  more  so.  ...  Put  that  water  an' 
sponge  down  over  here,  Chet,  while  I  see  how  bad 
he's  hurt." 

Tenderly,  Dabney  lifted  the  foot.  His  experi 
enced  eyes  told  him  at  once  that  the  horse  had  picked 
up  a  piece  of  wire  somewhere,  which  had  wrapped 
itself  around  the  hock.  Probably  it  had  been  soon 
thrown  off,  but  not  before  doing  some  damage. 
The  injury  was  slight,  but  sufficient  to  make  the 
high-spirited  creature  nervous  and  resentful  when 
at  all  roughly  approached. 

"  It  takes  a  vet'nary  surgeon  to  handle  a  thing 
like  that,  dad,"  said  Amos,  rather  apologetically. 
"  I  don't  purtend  to  be  that.  I'm  jest  a  blacksmith. 
I  can  shoe  a  hoss,  but  I  ain't  no  surgeon." 

"  Nuther  am  I,"  growled  Dabney,  without  look 
ing  up  from  his  occupation  of  gently  bathing  the 
hock  with  warm  water. 


"  HOSS  SENSE  "  139 

"  Why,  yes,  you  are,"  corrected  Lije.  "  Least 
ways,  I've  allers  thought  you  was.  I  don't  know 
another  man  in  New  Canaan  that  can  hold  a  candle 
to  you,  in  this  line.  If  anybody  had  oughta  have 
a  degree  of  Vet'nary  Surgeon,  it's  you !  " 

"  No,  sir,"  insisted  Dabney.  "  Don't  you  git 
that  idee  into  your  head,  Lije  Conklin.  I'm  jest  a 
plain  hoss  doctor.  I  ain't  never  claimed  to  be 
nothin'  more,  s'fur's  I  recollec'.  I  can  doctor  a 
hoss,  or  a  cow,  an'  mos'  gen'ally  I  know  what's  the 
matter  with  a  dog  or  cat  when  they  git  off  their 
feed  or  acts  any  other  way  's  ain't  right.  But  I 
ain't  never  laid  no  claim  to  a  diplomy  —  with  Latin 
and  English  mixed  up  in  it." 

The  washing  of  the  wound  was  complete  by  this 
time.  The  horse  had  stood  perfectly  quiet,  evi 
dently  enjoying  the  comfort  of  the  warm  water. 
Dabney  put  on  some  salve  of  his  own  composition. 
Then,  standing  up,  he  announced  that  the  roan  could 
now  be  shod  without  trouble. 

"Air  you  plumb  sure  of  that,  Dabney?"  asked 
Lije,  incredulously.  "  I'd  ruther  see  you  put  him 
in  the  rack,  if  there's  any  doubt  about  him  behavin' 
while  Amos  shoes  him.  It'd  save  a  heap  of  time, 
and  you'd  be  sure  there  wouldn't  be  no  fight  in  him 
—  leastways,  none  that  you  couldn't  handle." 


1 40  DABNEY  TODD 

Dabney  regarded  Lije  Conklin  curiously.  At  last 
he  replied,  in  slow,  even  tones: 

"  Wa'al,  I  reckon  you're  correct  'bout  bein'  able 
to  handle  him  if  we  was  to  fix  ropes  an'  straps  all 
over  him,  so  he  couldn't  make  even  a  wiggle.  Then 
we  could  lift  him  clear  of  the  floor,  and  he  wouldn't 
have  no  more  chance  than  a  mosquito  in  a  spider's 
web.  But,  would  you  call  that  givin'  the  hoss  a 
square  deal?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  growled  Lije. 

"  Wa'al,  you'd  hate  to  have  some  feller  offer  to 
lick  you  if  you'd  have  yourself  put  into  a  straitwes- 
kit  fust,  with  yer  hands  strapped  to  your  sides  an' 
hobbles  on  your  feet.  You'd  kinder  think  he  was 
seekin'  a  sort  of  undue  advantage,  wouldn't  you?" 

"That's  different!"  objected  Lije. 

"  I  dunno  's  it's  so  very  different,"  replied  Dab 
ney.  "  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  have 
Chet  take  off  them  front  shoes  fust,  and  put  one  on. 
After  that,  if  the  hoss  stands  anyways  still,  I  reckon 
we  may  say  he's  safe,  and  we'll  fit  on  his  other  three 
shoes.  Git  at  it,  Chet." 

"All  right,  Dad!" 

Chet  took  off  the  two  old  shoes  without  any  ob 
jections  from  the  horse.  Then  he  put  on  a  new 
one  without  difficulty. 


"HOSS  SENSE"  141 

The  roan  pulled  at  his  halter  and  swayed  occa 
sionally,  but  not  more  than  any  horse  might  while 
being  shod.  When  the  shoe  was  nailed  on  and 
Chet  put  the  foot  down,  the  horse  stood  quietly 
waiting  for  the  other  foot  to  be  picked  up.  All  his 
nervousness  had  vanished. 

"  There  you  be,  Lije,"  said  Dabney,  patting  the 
roan's  neck.  "  The  main  p'int  allers  is  to  find  out 
what's  makin'  him  nervous,  an'  do  away  with  that. 
Another  thing  I'll  tell  you  —  it's  a  dummed  sight 
easier  to  control  a  hoss  in  a  blacksmith  shop  with 
warm  water  an'  a  soft  sponge,  than  by  hittin'  him 
with  a  hammer-handle,  jest  as  it's  easier  to  make  a 
man  good  by  givin'  him  decent  work  at  liberal  wages 
than  it  is  by  slavin'  and  starvin'  him,  and  jailin'  him 
when  human  nater  rebels. 

"  Nater's  all  one,  whether  plant,  animal  or  hu 
man  —  an'  she  always  yields  her  fruit  accordin'  to 
the  soil.  If  preachers,  teachers,  editors,  reformers 
an'  politicians  knew  that  little  thing,  an'  acted  ac 
cordin',  we'd  have  a  dum  sight  better  world  than 
what  we  have,  to-day." 

He  smiled  a  trifle  enigmatically,  then  turned  and 
walked  out  of  the  shop,  leaving  a  germ  or  two  of  new 
ideas  to  root  in  the  consciousness  of  his  hearers. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CASH   BAILEY    STIRS   THE    COALS 

iHESE  were  days  that  found  Chet  strangely 
aloof  from  his  accustomed  haunts.  Singu 
larly  enough,  the  quiet  woods  and  running 
brooks  called  to  him,  and  he  found  great  solace  in 
seeing  them  through  Nance's  eyes.  All  of  the 
many  little  things  she  had  pointed  out  came  back  to 
him  on  these  solitary  vigils.  For  hours  at  a  time, 
in  the  gathering  dusk  of  evening,  he  would  stretch 
himself  out  in  the  tall  wiregrass,  under  the  giant 
elms  standing  guard  upon  Storm  King,  and  from  this 
vantage  point  watch  the  smoke  curling  up  from  the 
little  village,  dreaming  of  Nance,  intent  on  finding 
some  way  to  go  to  her  and  say  what  was  in  his  heart. 
Aimlessly  wandering  down  the  road  to-night,  he 
had  left  the  village  behind,  and  almost  gained  the 
old  stone  bridge  over  the  Onondaga,  when  he  saw 
a  strange  little  camp  pitched  beside  the  road. 
An  auto  had  been  driven  down  a  narrow  side 
142 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     143 

road,  a  short  distance  from  the  main  highway,  and 
from  its  side  a  small  shelter  tent  was  staked  out. 
Chet  could  see  a  man  tinkering  over  the  fire,  and  to 
his  nostrils  came  the  appetizing  odor  of  frying 
bacon.  A  giant  Llewellyn  setter  at  the  man's  side 
barked  at  the  boy,  and,  as  the  stranger  turned,  Chet 
recognized  Cash  Bailey. 

"Hello,  Chet!"  was  Cash's  cheery  greeting. 
"  Just  in  time.  Had  supper?  " 

'Yes,  thanks.     Nice  evening!" 

"  Every  evening's  nice,  if  you  know  how  to  take 
it,"  Cash  answered,  "  but  I'll  admit  this  one  is 
nicer  'n  most." 

"What  you  doin'  here?"  asked  Chet.  "You 
ain't  gave  up  the  store,  have  you?  " 

"  No,  not  for  good.  But  I'm  on  an  outdoor  trip, 
just  now,  with  a  line  of  stock  that  goes  great  in  the 
country  —  some  extra  nice  tinware,  brooms,  cali 
coes,  doilies,  table-covers,  paper  lamp-shades  an' 
other  art-goods  too  numerous  to  mention.  It's  too 
fine  weather  to  be  indoors,  Chet.  I'm  glad  to  be 
on  the  road.  There's  something  about  being  out 
doors  that  gets  under  my  skin.  I've  figured  out  a 
philosophy  regarding  it  that's  almost  as  satisfying 
as  selling  goods." 

Chet  had  flung  himself  into  the  cool  grass,  and 


144  DABNEY  TODD 

was  filling  his  pipe,  with  a  reflective  face,  while  Cash 
went  on  with  his  preparations  for  supper. 

Chet  watched  him  while  he  ate,  and,  as  he  ob 
served  the  kindly  Cash,  a  great  envy  of  this  wayside 
philosopher,  who  seemed  never  to  have  been  touched 
by  care  or  sorrow,  came  over  him.  The  boy  won 
dered  what  had  first  sent  him  over  the  hills  and  far 
away  in  the  first  little  wagon  Cash  had  ever  owned. 

"Why'd  you  ever  do  it?"  asked  he.  "What 
made  you  ever  take  to  peddlin'  goods,  outside  the 
store?  Most  merchants  are  willin'  to  set  still  an' 
let  the  tide  come  to  'em.  How'd  you  happen  to 
begin  goin'  out  after  it?" 

"Well,  Chet,"  Cash  smiled.  "As  an  Indian 
would  say,  that's  a  heap  big  question.  For  every 
reason  in  the  world,  I  guess,  but  mostly  because  I 
wanted  freedom.  Freedom  of  action,  and  thought, 
and  you  don't  find  it  within  four  walls.  You've  got 
to  be  out  on  the  highway,  looking  down  from  the 
hills  on  the  countryside  smiling  in  the  sun,  or  sleep 
ing  under  the  stars,  to  get  that.  I  walk,  or  ride, 
where  I  will.  My  thoughts  are  as  free  as  the  wind. 
And  you're  not  standing  still,  either.  Don't  fool 
yourself  there,  Chet.  You're  growing  all  the  time. 
Why,  the  mountains  were  flat  once.  It  may  have 
been  millions  and  millions  of  years  ago.  But  to-day 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     145 

you  see  them  towering  to  the  clouds  and  you  can 
hardly  believe  that  they  were  ever  anything  but  what 
they  are.  Men  don't  take  so  long  to  develop,  but 
the  principle  holds  good." 

Cash  filled  his  pipe,  and  puffed  contentedly  for  a 
while,  before  he  began  washing  his  dishes  in  the 
little  stream.  Then  he  went  on: 

"  Did  you  ever  sleep  out  in  the  open?  Well,  if 
you  haven't,  you  don't  know  what  real  sleep  is.  I 
work  all  day,  going  from  farmhouse  to  farmhouse, 
with  now  and  then  a  hamlet  or  village,  to  vary  the 
monotony.  I've  talked  till  I'm  hoarse,  but  I've  sold 
goods.  Well,  evening  comes,  and  I  climb  a  big  hill, 
with  its  secret  of  what's  beyond,  and  maybe,  when 
I  get  to  the  top,  I  see  the  sun  going  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lake,  setting  the  bushes  and  sedge- 
grass  on  fire,  and  lighting  up  the  big  trees.  Or 
maybe  it's  just  something  I've  seen  a  hundred  times 
before  —  but  it's  beautiful.  And  then  it's  supper 
time.  I  look  around  for  a  place  to  camp  for  the 
night.  It's  hiding  down  there  somewhere  in  a  nook 
of  the  valley,  and  I  go  around  down  the  hill  as  fast 
as  I  can,  the  brakes  screaming  and  the  blue  smoke 
from  the  exhaust  trailing  out  behind."  Cash 
paused,  and  looked  away  at  the  distant  sunset. 
"  Chet,  you  can't  buy  that  kind  of  fun." 


i46  DABNEY  TODD 

The  spirit  of  wanderlust  that  Cash  breathed  in 
with  the  air  had  begun  to  catch  Chet. 

"  Give  me  a  towel  and  let  me  help,"  he  pleaded, 
ready  to  have  Cash  go  on  for  hours. 

"That's  freedom,  Chet!  And  it's  free  as  the 
air.  You're  in  the  lap  of  God  Himself  when  you're 
out  in  the  open  country,  and  man's  petty  laws 
aren't  worth  thinking  of.  Or  if  you  get  to  the 
lowlands,  you  pass  a  farmhouse,  perhaps,  and  you 
see  the  farmer  and  his  hired  man  coming  out  of  the 
stable  or  driving  the  cows  to  pasture.  They've  done 
their  chores,  and  soon  they'll  be  goin'  to  sound  sleep. 
It  is  their  nightly  reward  for  a  hard  day's  labor. 
And,  Lord !  Chet !  You  know  how  hard  a  man 

works  on  a  farm?  " 

i 

"Don't  I?"  commented  Chet,  sententiously. 
'  The  chickens  have  gone  to  bed,  but,  as  you  pass 
the  hen-roost,  you  can  hear  'em  bickerin'  and 
scratchin'.  Once  in  a  while  you'll  hear  the  '  tweet!  ' 
of  a  robin  or  the  caw  of  a  crow.  Did  you  ever  no 
tice  how  pretty  a  crow  can  sound  when  you  hear  him 
at  sundown?  Seems  impossible  to  you,  eh?  Well, 
you  just  listen,  next  time.  But  it's  the  man  on  the 
road  who  gets  close  to  crow  nature  —  and  every 
other  kind  of  nature.  When  God  created  this  earth, 
He  didn't  put  man  in  a  house,  did  He?  Not  by  a 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     147 

jugful.  He  gave  him  a  Garden  to  live  in,  with 
fruit,  flowers,  running  streams  —  the  beauties  His 
hand  had  made  —  all  round  him.  I  tell  you,  Chet, 
a  man  needs  the  fresh  soil  to  bring  out  the  best  that's 
in  him.  He  wasn't  made  to  live  inside  of  four 
walls,  with  a  man-made  roof  over  him.  Nor  to 
work  that  way,  either.  No,  sir !  " 

"  I'm  beginnin'  to  think  so  myself,"  returned 
Chet,  slowly,  "  workin'  day  after  day  in  a  black 
smith  shop,  doin'  the  same  thing  over  and  over,  with 
the  smoke  and  smell  of  burnin'  hoofs  always  in  your 
nostrils.  I  tell  you,  Cash,  I'm  tired  of  it.  The  dig 
nity  of  labor  that  folks  like  to  talk  about,  so  much, 
is  usually  praised  most  by  them  that  ain't  ever  had 
so  much  as  one  small  blister  on  their  hands,  from 
work.  I  want  somethin'  new.  I  want  to  make  a 
change." 

"Well,  why  don't  you?" 

The  question  came  abruptly,  as  Cash  Bailey 
turned  his  keen  -eyes  upon  his  companion  and  looked 
him  over  from  head  to  foot  in  the  fast-gathering 
gloom. 

"  How?  What  could  /do?  I  don't  know  any- 
thin'  about  sellin'  goods  from  a  wagon.  Every  man 
to  his  trade,  Cash." 

"Piffle!     You  don't  have  to  peddle  goods  from 


i48  DABNEY  TODD 

a  wagon.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  rail-splitter  at 
one  time;  Andrew  Johnson  a  shoemaker,  Marshall 
Field  a  five-dollar-a-week  clerk.  You  are  a  black 
smith.  What  of  that?  You  can  be  anythin'  your 
ambition  desires.  Any  one  can.  All  a  man  needs 
to  get  ahead  is  vision.  Understand?  Vision,  and 
the  will  to  follow  it." 

Chet  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  be,  Chet?  Are  you 
content  to  be  just  Dabney  Todd's  son,  shoein'  horses 
and  mendin'  plows  and  cultivators?  You  say  your 
self  you're  tired  of  that,  already.  Good  for  you! 
It's  a  hopeful  sign.  Some  of  these  days  you're  goin' 
to  break  away  from  it  all  —  and  the  sooner  you  do 
the  better  you'll  be." 

"  But  I  don't  know  anythin'  but  my  own  busi 
ness,"  the  boy  put  in. 

"  All  right !  You  can  mend  anything  that  has 
iron  and  steel  in  it,  and  you  know  how  to  make  a 
gas-engine  work  when  it  gets  cranky.  Why,  Chet, 
you've  got  a  great  opportunity  here.  You  can  re 
pair  automobiles.  Yes,  sir!" 

"  I  have  done  it,"  broke  in  Chet.  "  Nigh  a  dozen 
times  autos  have  had  trouble  in  New  Canaan. 
Sometimes  it  would  be  only  a  bit  of  dirt  in  the  car 
buretor,  cracked  plug,  or  a  broken  fan-belt,  or  it 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     149 

might  be  somethin'  worse.  I  was  always  able  to  fix 
'em." 

"  Good !  Now,  why  don't  you  go  in  the  auto 
mobile  business  altogether?  " 

"Sell  'em?" 

"  Not  only  that.  Open  a  garage  of  your  own, 
where  you  can  do  repairs  —  or  have  your  men  do 
'em.  Get  the  agency  for  some  good  standard  ma 
chines,  and  demonstrate  'em  to  your  customers. 
There's  plenty  of  openings.  In  fact,  the  right  man 
makes  his  own  opening,  and  I  ^m  banking  on  your 
being  that  kind  of  fellow,  Chet.  Of  course,  it'll 
take  grit  and  you'll  have  troubles  enough  to  make 
you  hate  yourself.  Some  men  give  it  all  up  before 
getting  well  started.  But,  Chet,  I  don't  believe 
you're  a  quitter." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  am  either,"  answered  Chet 
with  a  certain  grimness.  "  I  don't  seem  to  remem 
ber  anythin'  I  ever  really  set  out  to  do,  that  I  didn't 
finish." 

"  Then  here's  your  chance.  I'm  not  goin'  to  tell 
you  just  how  you're  to  start.  If  you  can't  figure 
that  out  for  yourself,  you  wouldn't  make  a  success 
after  you'd  started.  A  part  of  this  round  world  is 
yours  —  as  it  is  any  man's.  Jump  in  and  grab  your 
share.  You'll  have  to  fight  for  it,  and  hit  hard. 


i5o  DABNEY  TODD 

The  other  fellow  will  be  tryin'  to  beat  you  out  of  it. 
But  handle  him  the  way  you  do  a  horse  that  don't 
want  you  to  shoe  it  —  easily,  if  you  can,  but  with  a 
good  solid  grip  when  you  must." 

"  I'd  certainly  like  to  be  in  the  automobile  busi 
ness!"  Chet  exclaimed.  "Think  of  it,  Cash,  my 
own  business!  A  garage  of  my  own!  Why,  I'd 
put  a  real  stage  line  in  between  here  and  half  a 
dozen  other  towns,  and  I'd  make  it  pay.  I'd  sell 
cars,  too." 

"  Well,  you'd  better  think  this  thing  over,  Chet," 
Cash  agreed,  adding  enigmatically:  "  It  would  be 
good  for  your  complaint." 

"  Complaint?  What  d'  you  think's  the  matter 
with  me?' ' 

"  Don't  you  s'pose  I  can  see  that  somethin's  on 
your  mind?  A  husky  fellow  like  you  don't  go 
walkin'  out  into  the  country  alone  in  the  evening, 
not  goin'  nowhere  in  partic'lar,  and  stoppin'  once  in 
a  while  to  pull  leaves  off  a  bush,  or  kick  stones  out 
of  his  way,  forgettin'  to  go  on  again  for  a  while, 
unless  there's  some  reason  inside.  /  know.  In  my 
business  I  see  no  end  of  people;  and  women  I  sell 
things  to  often  will  drop  a  remark  that  tells  me 
they're  in  trouble,  even  when  they  don't  say  so  out- 
right." 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     151 

A  short  silence  fell  between  the  two.     Then : 

"  I  got  walking  out  into  the  country  for  the  same 
reason  that  you  like  it,"  said  Chet,  ignoring  the  last 
part  of  Cash's  speech.  "  I  feel  the  need  of  free 
dom  —  of  bein'  some  place  where  I  can  fill  my  lungs 
with  pure  air,  and  where  I  can  jump  and  kick,  and 
yell,  if  I  want  to." 

"  But  you  don't  kick  and  yell;  you  just  shuffle 
along  like  a  lame  calf,  and  have  about  the  same  look 
on  your  face,  if  you'll  excuse  my  sayin'  so.  You 
ain't  playin'  the  game,  Chet.  This  evenin's  sunset 
was  the  prettiest  I've  seen  this  summer.  What  do 
you  know  about  it?  If  anybody'd  asked  you  quick, 
you  wouldn't  ha'  been  able  to  say  whether  it  was 
the  sun  or  the  moon  goin'  down  back  of  that  wood 
over  there.  Fresh  air  is  fine,  but  you've  got  to  take 
it  in  with  long  breaths,  or  it  don't  do  you  any  good. 
I'll  tell  you  more  about  what's  the  matter  with  you 
—  the  cause  o'  your  heartache." 

Chet  did  not  speak.  Moodily,  he  knocked  the 
ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  waiting  for  Cash  to  go  on. 

"  Want  me  to  tell  you,  Chet?  " 

The  boy  nodded. 

"  Girl !  "  exploded  Cash  Bailey.  "  Just  girl  I  I 
know  the  signs !  " 

Chet  turned  upon  his  companion  almost  fiercely, 


152  DABNEY  TODD 

bending  forward  so  that  he  could  look  straight  into 
his  eyes. 

"Who  d'  you  mean?"  he  demanded.  "What 
girl?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  laughed  Cash.  "Any 
girl  would  have  the  same  effect  on  you,  if  you  wanted 
her.  Her  name  ain't  of  any  importance  in  this  dis 
cussion.  Whether  it's  Sally,  Ann  or  Prue,  Kate, 
Jemima  or  Clara  Jane,  it's  all  one,  so  far  as  makin' 
you  go  lollygaggin'  round,  moonstruck  and  mis'able. 
A  rose  by  any  name  would  smell  as  sweet.  A  best 
girl,  by  any  name  whatsomever,  always  spoils  the 
appetite  an'  upsets  the  pulse,  if  she's  really  an'  truly 
got  the  hooks  into  you." 

Chet  relaxed  in  the  grass,  and  looked  up  at  the 
stars,  as  he  answered  quietly: 

"  I  calc'late  that's  so.  Every  fellow  that  likes  a 
girl  thinks  she's  the  only  one,  I  reckon.  But  you're 
only  guessin'  about  that  with  me,  Cash.  Still,  if  it 
was  true  — " 

"  I  hope  it  is  true,"  swiftly  interrupted  Cash 
Bailey.  "  Because  that  '11  help  you  to  win." 

"  Money?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  money,  of  course.  That's  what  you 
go  into  business  for  —  to  make  the  long  green. 
Not  only  because  you  want  to  pile  up  a  whole  lot 


CASH  BAILEY  STIRS  THE  COALS     153 

of  it,  but  because  there's  so  much  fun  in  makin'  it. 
It's  like  fishin'.  I've  seen  a  man  pull  a  two-pound 
trout  out  o'  the  water,  and,  after  lookin'  it  over,  give 
it  away.  Why?  Because  he  didn't  want  the  fish  so 
much  as  the  sport  of  landin'  it.  He'd  been  playin' 
for  that  fish  with  his  fly-rod  and  half  a  dozen  differ 
ent  kinds  of  flies  for  two  hours,  and  he'd  enjoyed 
every  minute.  There  you  are !  It's  the  same  in 
business,  if  a  man's  made  o'  the  genuine  stuff." 

"  But  I  want  money,"  declared  Chet.  "  Lots  of 
it!" 

u  Of  course  you  do  —  especially  if  there's  a  girl. 
You've  got  to  do  it  for  her.  But  the  money  isn't 
everything  with  her,  neither.  When  a  girl  gets 
married,  she  wants  somethin'  in  her  home  besides 
a  lot  of  talk  about  crops  and  potato-bugs.  You've 
got  to  be  a  man  of  the  world,  in  a  way,  if  you  want 
to  make  a  woman  happy  and  contented  in  her  own 
home.  Lord!  How  a  woman  does  admire  a 
fighter  —  a  fellow  who  does  things  !  He  don't  need 
to  be  a  big  husky  chap  like  you,  neither,  Chet  —  if 
he's  got  the  brains.  If  some  girl's  worryia'  you,  go 
to  her  and  find  out  what's  what.  Worryin'  .about  it 
and  moonin'  to  yourself  won't  help  none !  " 

Thus  Cash  and  Chet  talked  till  very  late;  and 
when  Cash  bade  the  boy  good-night,  a  new  deter- 


i54  DABNEY  TODD 

mination  shone  in  Chet's  eyes  —  a  light  that  would 
have  gladdened  the  heart  of  Nance  Pelot,  had  she 
been  able  to  see  it  there.  So  busy  was  Chet  with 
his  thoughts  that  he  had  reached  home  before  he  re 
alized  he  was  even  in  the  village. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
DABNEY'S  TRANQUILLITY  is  DISTURBED 

THOUGH  Chet  was  slow  to  become  enthu 
siastic,    once    he    had    been    aroused    he 
clung  with  a  tenacity  of  purpose  that  never 
acknowledged    defeat.     In    this    he    followed    his 
father's    footsteps,    for   one    of   Dabney's    favorite 
aphorisms  was:     "Many  a  bulldog's  been  licked, 
an'  then  in  the  end  chawed  up  the  other  dog,  simply 
because  when  he  was  licked  he  didn't  know  it!  " 

Cash  Bailey  had  fired  the  boy  with  strange  ideas, 
and  Chet  awoke  next  morning  determined  to  talk 
things  over  with  his  father. 

"  Dad,"  he  blurted  out,  bluntly,  "  I'm  goin'  to  sell 
that  forty  acres  you  gave  me  last  year,  if  you'll  let 
me." 

They  were  at  breakfast.  Amos  had  already  gone 
to  work. 

"  Why,  Chet,  what's  wrong  with  the  place  now?  " 
Dabney  asked  incredulously.  "  I  figured  that  farm 
was  a  right  val'able  piece  of  land." 

155 


156  DABNEY  TODD 

"  None  finer  round  here,"  Chet  agreed.  "  But 
I'm  aimin'  to  make  more  money  than  I'm  gettin'  out 
of  that  farm.  What  do  you  say  to  buyin'  it  back?  " 

Dabney  carefully  set  down  the  saucer  in  which  he 
had  been  rocking  and  blowing  his  tea,  and  stared 
with  some  astonishment  at  his  son. 

"  Now,  Chet,"  he  warned,  "  don't  you  go  tryin' 
to  slip  one  over  on  your  paw.  Don't  you  git  to 
thinkin'  you're  goin'  to  shake  me  down  for  a  fancy 
price  just  'cause  you're  one  of  the  fam'ly.  You  go 
an'  sell  that  farm,  if  you  want  to  —  she's  yourn  — 
but  I  sure  would  do  some  thinkin'  'fore  I  let  go  on 
her.  What're  you  plannin'  on  doin'  with  all  that 
money,  anyhow?  " 

"  I'm  goin'  to  build  a  fireproof  garage  and  go  in 
the  automobile  business." 

It  came  straight  from  the  shoulder,  and  Chet  anx 
iously  watched  his  father's  face. 

"  There'll  be  a  barrel  of  money  in  it,  dad,  if  I 
work  it  right,"  Chet  continued  eagerly.  "  I'll  buy 
an'  sell  machines,  repair  'em,  an'  carry  a  full  line  of 
accessories  for  automobilists  on  the  road.  I'll  put 
in  a  gasoline  tank  an'  make  a  good  thing  out  o'  that. 
I'll  sell  oil  and  pick  up  a  dollar  every  way  I  turn. 
Won't  you  help  me  do  it,  dad?  Won't  you?  " 

Dabney's  answer  was  a  flank  attack. 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  157 

"  Chet  Todd,"  he  boomed,  "  you  never  figured 
all  that  out  by  yourself.  No,  sirree !  Where'd  you 
git  this  idea,  huh?  Who  you  been  talkin'  to?  " 

"  Cash  Bailey." 

There  was  no  hesitation  in  Chet's  manner  any 
longer. 

"Cash  Bailey!"  Dabney  ejaculated.  "I  might 
ha'  knowed  it.  First  he  sells  my  wife  a  shirtwaist 
made  o'  stuff  that  warn't  intended  for  nothin'  else 
but  a  uniform  for  the  Kiltie  band,  an'  now  he  gits 
my  son  a-wantin'  to  sell  his  farm,  to  go  in  the  auto 
mobile  business.  Gosh  all  hemlock!  What'll  he 
have  me  doin'  next?  " 

"  Don't  you  go  flyin'  off  the  handle  about  Cash, 
dad!  "  Chet  put  in.  "Here  I've  been  goin'  along 
doin'  nothin'  in  particular,  just  waiting  for  some 
thing  to  turn  up,  and  it  makes  me  sick.  I  don't  get 
a  chance  that  way.  Cash  is  right.  If  you're  goin' 
to  get  anywhere,  you  got  to  do  your  own  rowin'." 

"  Son,"  laughed  Dabney,  "  you're  sure  plumb  het 
up  'bout  this,  ain't  you?  " 

"  I  got  my  mind  made  up,  if  that's  what  you  mean, 
dad.  I  ain't  goin'  to  go  on  like  Amos.  Shoein' 
hosses  an'  repairin'  cultivators,  and  the  like,  ain't 
goin'  to  satisfy  me.  I  want  my  own  business,  an' 
I'm  goin'  to  get  it,  some  way.  If  I  make  good, 


158  DABNEY  TODD 

they'll  say  what  a  smart  boy  you  got — and  if  I 
don't,  they'll  just  as  surely  give  me  the  laugh.  But 
I'll  take  that  chance." 

"  Wa'al,  now,  Chet,"  said  Dabney,  kindly,  "  you 
ain't  never  heard  of  your  dad  lettin'  any  one  give 
his  boys  the  laugh  if  he  was  able  to  keep  him  from 
doin'  it,  have  yuh?  " 

Chet  read  the  assurance  in  his  father's  eyes.  He 
pushed  back  his  chair  and  leaned  across  the  table 
toward  him. 

"  You  mean  I  get  a  chance  to  do  this,  dad?  "  he 
cried  eagerly.  "  You  mean  you  don't  call  me  crazy 
to  think  automobiles  are  what  this  town  needs? 
And  you'll  give  me  the  money  to  start?  " 

"  Yep,"  Dabney  said,  knowingly,  his  eyes  half 
closed,  as  he  pondered  the  matter.  "  I  cal'late,  all 
bluffin'  aside  —  an'  bluff's  a  mighty  useful  thing,  at 
times,  to  make  the  other  feller  show  his  hand  —  I 
cal'late  you  hit  a  good  idee,  in  this.  You're  showin' 
real  Todd  grit  an'  sense.  You're  lookin'  ahead 
now,  when  you're  talkin'  autymobiles,  an'  it's  only 
men  who  look  ahead  that  get  ahead.  They'll  have 
lots  of  autymobiles  here  or  bust,  some  day.  If  you 
start  now,  you'll  be  ready  when  the  time  comes,  and 
the  man  on  the  job  does  the  business." 

Dabney's  mind  wandered  for  a  minute. 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  159 

"  How  fine  that'll  be,  Chet,"  he  went  on,  at  last. 
"  Hosses  are  gittin'  scarce.  People  are  usin'  'em 
less  an'  less,  until  soon  they  won't  need  'em  much 
for  anythin'  but  plowin'  an'  cultivatin'.  Work'll  be 
gittin'  scarcer  an'  scarcer  all  the  time  down  to  the 
old  shop,  and  you,  my  boy,  will  be  on  the  job,  ready 
to  give  'em  the  new  things  they'll  want  then. 
Growin'  up  with  'em,  so  to  speak,  an'  keepin'  the 
name  of  Todd  on  top." 

"You  really  think  I'll  succeed,  then?"  asked 
Cher,  excitedly. 

"  Uh-huh.  Every  one  usually  does  that's  got 
brains  an'  energy.  Life  had  oughta  mean  success, 
if  it  means  anythin',  I  cal'late  whatever  Power 
made  this  world,  meant  for  all  to  have  enough,  an' 
nobody  to  suffer  want  in  such  a  garden  o'  'plenty. 
Yes,  Chet,  you'll  git  thar  all  right,  if  no  greedy, 
graspin'  hawg  pushes  in  an'  does  you  out  of  the  re 
sults  of  your  labors." 

"  I  won't  let  'em !  "  exclaimed  Chet,  with  vigorous 
determination. 

"  You  can't  always  help  it,"  said  his  father 
sagely.  "  Hog  nature  is  sometimes  too  strong  in 
some  people  to  be  overcome  by  the  human  nature 
in  others.  Jest  as  some  shoats  will  git  their  feet 
in  the  trough  —  usually  the  runts,  at  that  —  an' 


160  DABNEY  TODD 

crowd  out  all  the  others,  so  they's  men  will  try  the 
same  dodge,  in  the  game  of  life.  These  here  trust 
maggots  — " 

"  Magnates,  father." 

"  Maggots  I  said,  an'  maggot  I  mean!  "  affirmed 
Dabney,  decidedly.  "  Don't  they  illustrate  it? 
Don't  they  raise  prices,  make  shoddy  goods,  buy  an' 
sell  legislatures,  crowrd  the  little  kids  into  their  mills 
an'  mines  an'  fact'ries,  an'  then  when  their  men  com 
plain,  shoot  an'  jail  'em?  Don't  they  make  wars 
between  nations,  strew  the  battlefields  with  dead 
men,  an'  fill  the  world  with  orphans  an'  widders,  I'd 
like  to  know?  " 

Chet  remained  silent  a  moment,  pondering. 

"  Now,"  continued  Dabney,  after  a  little  pause, 
"  if  the  people  that  do  the  work  only  got  the  re 
ward,  it'd  be  all  right,  I  cal'late.  The  world  be 
longs  to  them  that  tills  an'  mines  an'  builds  an'  sows 
an'  reaps,  not  to  them  that  plots  an'  schemes  an' 
cheats  an'  gambles  in  stocks  an'  bonds.  Some  day 
we'll  git  sense  enough  to  take  from  each  accordin 
to  his  ability,  an'  give  to  each  accordin*  to  his  need. 
That'll  be  the  millenyum,  I  reckon.  But  till  then 
Chet,  we  got  to  look  out  for  the  maggots.  We 
have  'em  right  here  in  New  Canaan,  on  a  small  scale 
—  same  principle,  only  weaker.  So,  when  you  git 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  161 

into  business,  watch  out!  Watch  out,  boy,  that's 
all  I  got  to  say!  An'  good  luck  to  you.  When 
d'you  reckon  you'll  need  that  there  money?  " 

Chet  walked  on  air  that  day.  Plans  had  to  be 
formed,  a  location  selected,  arrangements  made  to 
get  the  agencies  he  wanted,  and  a  hundred  other 
things.  The  boy's  mind  was  filled  to  overflowing 
with  enthusiasm  for  his  task.  Man-like,  in  the  first 
flush  of  business  activity,  he  forgot  Nance  for  the 
time  being. 

Surely  Cash  had  been  right.  Already  people 
were  beginning  to  treat  him  with  a  new  dignity. 
He  was  no  longer  just  Dabney  Todd's  son,  but  a 
full-grown  man,  ready  to  take  his  place  in  the  world, 
and  if  he  thought  of  Nance  at  all,  it  was  only  to 
wonder  what  she  would  say  to  all  this. 

Dabney  idled  away  the  entire  morning  in  the  lit 
tle  office  in  his  shop.  This  was  for  him  quite  an 
unusual  proceeding. 

Chet  had  started  the  train  of  thought  that  wor 
ried  him  now.  Was  it  possible,  he  asked  himself, 
that  a  great,  big  overgrown  boy  like  Chet,  could 
generate  all  that  ambition  of  his  -own  accord?  Dab 
ney  allowed  for  Cash's  influence,  and  still  knew  he 
had  not  answered  himself. 

The  Redburn  stage  pulled  in  about  ten  o'clock  on 


1 62  DABNEY  TODD 

its  morning  trip.  Now  Jed  Peters,  who  drove  it, 
was  sweeping  it  out  and  tinkering  with  the  engine 
over  in  front  of  Watkins'  store,  while  Dabney,  sit 
ting  where  he  was,  watched  him  with  interest. 

The  stage  would  not  leave  on  its  return  trip  until 
two  in  the  afternoon.  So  Jed  took  his  time,  and 
Dabney  still  found  him  interesting.  Somehow,  the 
stage  seemed  to  intrude  into  the  question  he  was  de 
bating  with  himself.  The  connection  eluded  him 
for  a  long  while. 

It  suddenly  hit  him  a  broadside. 

"  Sufferin'  cats!"  he  ejaculated.  "That's  it  — 
Nance  Pelot !  " 

Starting,  he  knocked  half  the  litter  on  his  desk  to 
the  floor;  and  as  he  bent  over,  picking  it  up  piece 
by  piece,  "  Dabney!  "  he  murmured,  "you're  gittin' 
downright  stupid !  " 

For  a  man  who  was  stupid,  Dabney  did  a  lot  of 
quick  thinking  during  the  short  walk  home  to  din 
ner.  When  he  drove  Diamond  out  of  the  barn,  a 
few  minutes  after  he  had  left  the  table,  Neevey  got 
a  noncommittal  answer  to  her  question  as  to  where 
he  "  cal'lated  hikerin'  to,  now?  " 

Jed  Peters  carried  very  few  passengers  on  his 
afternoon  trips,  and  as  Dabney  drove  up  to  Link 
Watkins',  a  few  minutes  before  the  stage  was  due 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  163 

to  leave,  he  saw  that  Nance  was  the  only  passenger. 

"  Hello,  Nance !  "  he  greeted  her.  "  Better  jump 
in  here  and  ride  with  me.  I  happen  to  be  goin' 
over  to  the  city." 

Nance  entertained  a  real  fondness  for  Dabney,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  his  prosperity  always  served 
to  remind  her  of  her  father's  broken  fortunes.  She 
knew,  of  course,  no  blame  attached  to  Dabney,  in 
the  matter;  and  then,  too,  Dabney  was  such  a  kind- 
hearted,  shrewd,  humorous  old  fellow  —  and  above 
all,  was  he  not  the  father  of  Chet? 

Now,  however,  she  shrank  from  accepting  his 
offer.  For  some  time  —  in  fact,  ever  since  having 
begun  work  for  the  unspeakable  Jew,  Morris  Rosen 
blatt —  she  had  tried  her  best  to  keep  to  herself. 
And  just  now,  of  all  times,  she  certainly  did  not 
fancy  the  long  ride  to  Redburn  with  him,  and  the 
opportunity  it  offered  for  conversation. 

"  Thanks,  Mr.  Todd,"  she  smiled.  "  I  guess  I 
won't,  this  time." 

'  You  sure  are  going  to  change  your  mind, 
Nance,"  he  answered  whimsically.  "  Seein'  as  how 
I  hitched  up  for  the  express  purpose  of  takin'  you 
over.  I  ain't  recollectin'  any  business  that's  callin' 
me  to  Redburn." 

Nance  could  not  have  told  what  decided  her  to 


1 64  DABNEY  TODD 

accept    his    invitation.     Surely    those    smiling    eyes 
meant  her  no  harm. 

When  Jed  came  out,  ready  to  stait,  Nance  and 
Dabney  were  a  long  way  down  the  road.  As  he 
passed  them  he  waved  his  hand  at  Dabney  calling 
him  four  kinds  of  a  "  hoss  thief." 

They  were  passing  Nance's  farm  before  Dabney 
found  what  he  wanted  to  say  to  her.  All  the  way 
out  he  had  been  covertly  watching  and  appraising 
her.  No  wonder,  he  thought,  that  Chet  wanted 
the  girl.  The  finely-chiseled  mouth  and  nose  ap 
pealed  to  him  compellingly. 

"  Nance,  you  ain't  changed  your  mind  'bout  sellin' 
that  farm?"  he  said,  as  he  pointed  toward  it  with 
his  whip. 

"  Hardly,  Mr.  Todd,"  she  asserted  positively. 

'  Wa'al,  now,  I  ain't  tellin'  you  all  my  suspicions, 
but  I  got  'em,  an',  if  I  was  you,  Nance,  I  wouldn't 
change  my  mind  about  lettin'  go  on  it,  'cause  jest 
as  sure  as  you  do,  you're  goin'  to  make  me  disap 
point  yuh,  an'  I  don't  want  to  be  downright  mean 
that-a-way." 

"  I  thought  my  father  had  made  it  clear  to  you 
that  I  couldn't  sell  the  old  place,"  she  replied. 

"  Yeh,  he  did  say  that,  Nance.  But  I  ain't  for- 
glttin'  I'm  not  goin'  to  have  a  say  in  the  matter  after 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  165 

August,  an',  as  I  said  before,  if  what  I  suspect  is 
true,  three  months  won't  be  long  for  them  to  wait 
as  wants  to  git  it." 

"Well,  what  are  you  hinting  at?  "  she  asked. 

Dabney  chuckled. 

"  Nance,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  puttin'  the  buck  up 
to  an  ole  man  like  that.  Why,  what  I'm  thinkin'  is 
so  plumb  preposterous,  I'm  dog-goned  if  I  ain't 
afeerd  to  tell  you.  If  I'm  wrong,  this  county'd  have 
the  laugh  on  me  for  the  rest  of  my  nat'ral  life.  No, 
sirree !  I  ain't  sayin'.  But  I've  got  my  eyes  open, 
an'  I'm  doin'  a  consid'rable  bit  o'  seein' —  an'  lis- 
tenin'." 

Dabney  had  had  his  say,  and,  try  as  she  would, 
Nance  could  not  find  out  what  he  was  rolling  over 
in  his  mind. 

They  drove  along  in  silence  for  a  while  before 
Dabney  turned  to  her  again. 

"  I'm  jest  wonderin',  Nance,"  he  said,  whimsically, 
"  what  kind  of  an  ole  he-bear  you  think  I  be.  Now 
tut,  tut!  Don't  go  flatterin'  me  that-a-way,  'cause 
I  been  tryin'  to  figger  out  jest  what  I'd  think  o'  my 
self  if  I  was  you  —  an'  it  don't  seem  to  call  for  no 
flattery,  much.  Though  they  ain't  no  man  can  say 
I  took  undue  advantage  on  him,  or  ever  turned  the 
corners,  when  I'd  passed  my  word." 


166  DABNEY  TODD 

Slowly,  gravely,  almost  as  father  might  have  done 
who  had  not  seen  his  daughter  in  years  of  separa 
tion,  Dabney  Todd  began  speaking  to  her  of  past 
days  and  of  the  long  struggles  of  his  existence. 

Nance  sat  absorbed  as  this  old  man  unfolded  his 
life  to  her.  She  knew  Dabney  well  enough  to  know 
that  it  was  unusual,  and  that  it  in  some  way  bore 
directly  on  her. 

"  I  been  a  savin'  man,  Nance,"  he  went  on. 
"  Never  denyin'  myself  what  I  ought  to  have,  mind 
you,  but  lookin'  ahead  for  a  rainy  day.  Some 
times  it  rained  purty  blamed  hard  for  me.  Still,  I 
ain't  complainin'.  Some  folks  are  meant  to  git  on, 
I  allow.  Others  ain't  got  the  knack  of  it,  an'  I'm 
jest  wonderin'  if  they  ain't  a  notion  in  that  purty 
little  head  o'  yourn  that  I  got  a  lot  o'  things  the  good 
Lord  intended  for  your  paw." 

Something  seemed  to  catch  in  Nance's  throat. 
All  she  could  do  was  to  shake  her  head.  Not  that 
Dabney  was  wrong,  but  because  she  knew  the  fault 
was  not  his. 

*  Yes,  I  guess  I'd  think  a  little  that  way  now  and 
then  myself,  if  I  was  you,"  he  continued,  medita 
tively.  '  Your  paw  an'  me  started  even,  back  there 
years  ago,  an'  we  run  along  quite  nice  for  a  spell, 
till  somethin'  slipped  up  an'  hit  him  a  wallop  in  the 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  167 

back.  Men  don't  give  in  to  anythin'  like  he  did, 
with  their  eyes  open.  Maybe,  I  says  to  myself,  God 
intended  Joe  Pelot  to  drink  for  the  example  he'd 
be  to  somebody  else.  We  ain't  no  way  o'  tellin' 
how  He  moves  the  checkers  around.  But  I'll  bet 
He  ain't  takin'  all  the  good  out  o'  one  man  without 
givin'  it  to  some  one  else."  . 

Nance  was  sobbing  to  herself  now. 

"  And  I  been  watchin'  you  stick  to  him,"  contin 
ued  Dabney,  "  carin'  for  him,  an'  holdin'  of  your 
head  up  —  an'  I  been  proud  of  you.  .  .  .  You  ain't 
no  quitter,  Nance  Pelot!  I  been  sittin'  back,  sort 
o'  despisin'  myself  'cause  I  warn't  man  enough  to 
come  an'  tell  you  what  I  thought,  an'  let  you  know 
you  had  a  friend  you  could  count  on.  .  .  ."  Dab 
ney  smiled  to  himself.  "  Seems  that  some  o'  the 
members  o'  my  family  ain't  been  so  backward." 

Dabney's  voice  was  getting  husky,  too. 

"  But  I'm  tellin'  you  now,  Nance,  when  you're  in 
trouble  come  to  me.  An'  I'd  like  to  know  if  you 
want  to  promise  me  you  won't  do  nothin'  now  or 
after  August  with  that  farm,  without  askin'  me 
about  it." 

Words  just  then  were  beyond  Nance,  but  Dabney 
felt  her  slender  fingers  resting  ever  so  gently  on  his 
big,  horny  fist. 


1 68  DABNEY  TODD 

Old  Diamond  plodded  along  for  a  great  many 
minutes  before  Dabney  spoke  again. 

"  There's  some  folks  in  New  Canaan  can't  under 
stand  you,  little  girl  .  .  .  an'  it's  got  'em  worried 
to  death.  You  mustn't  forget  people's  prejudices  if 
you  want  to  be  happy  —  no,  sir." 

Since  Dabney  was  now  getting  near  the  real  pur 
pose  of  his  being  there,  he  hesitated  a  little  over  his 
diplomacy.  Despite  all  his  good  intentions  and  his 
great  innate  tact  in  dealing  with  almost  any  situation 
which  might  arise,  he  found  this  a  peculiarly  delicate 
place  to  be  in.  But,  after  a  little  pause,  he  went  on: 

"  An'  that  brings  me  to  what  I  want  to  say  to 
you  —  it's  jest  this  —  if  you  want  to  run  round  with 
the  Shayne  boy,  wa'al,  I,  for  one,  say  it's  nobody's 
business  but  your  own.  I  know  there's  them  who 
don't  agree  with  me,  but  they  don't  bother  me. 
Course,  he's  got  a  purty  shady  reputation,  an'  he's 
left  his  mark  on  some  —  but,  shucks !  Ef  you  want 
him,  why — " 

Had  he  built  her  hopes  up  to  dash  them  to  the 
ground  this  way?  Was  this,  then,  all  she  could 
expect?  Anger  flared  in  her  eyes. 

"Is  that  the  way  I  have  impressed  you?"  she 
halted  him  sharply.  "  Is  that  the  kind  of  girl  you 
think  you  are  offering  your  friendship  to?  Do  you 


DABNEY  IS  DISTURBED  169 

know  me  so  little  that  you  can  believe  I  want  Larry 
Shayne  —  that  he  can  be  anything  to  me?  " 

Dabney  met  her  shining  eyes,  but  there  was  only 
happiness  in  his. 

"  There,  there !  "  he  soothed  her.  "  Don't  you 
go  gittin'  all  excited  that-a-way.  I  jest  wanted  to 
hear  you  say  you  didn't  cotton  to  the  stripe  of  that 
blackbird.  I  was  sure  of  you  right  along,  but  I 
wanted  to  hear  you  say  it.  An'  I  don't  mind  tellin' 
you,  Nance,  your  goin'  over  to  the  city  two  and  three 
nights  a  week  has  got  my  nat'ral  curiosity  aroused. 
Now  you  go  on  an'  tell  me  what  it's  all  about." 

Kindly  and  patiently,  Dabney  wheedled  it  out  of 
her  —  her  need  of  money,  her  fear  of  what  folks 
would  say,  her  repugnance  to  Larry,  and  the  horror 
the  place  held  for  her. 

When  she  had  finished,  Dabney  was  silent  before 
the  sacrifice  the  girl  had  made.  Wisely  he  shook 
his  head.  He  was  profoundly  touched.  The  end 
less  wonder  of  woman!  He  wondered  what  Nee- 
vey  would  say  to  this  if  she  knew. 

"  Nance,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  I  ain't  aimin'  to  be 
no  religious  man,  but  what  you've  jest  told  me  makes 
me  sure  God  ain't  far  away.  He's  been  givin'  you 
the  courage  an'  nerve  to  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  an' 
I  guess  He  ain't  goin'  to  forgit  you  now,  noways. 


170  DABNEY  TODD 

If  things  git  so  you  can't  stand  'em  no  longer  with 
out  goin'  mad,  you  come  to  me.  If  Joe  ain't  able 
to  work  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  we'll  fix  it  up  some 
other  way." 

Insistently  she  made  him  promise  that  Neevey  and 
Chet  must  not  know.  Dabney's  plea  for  Chet  was 
in  vain. 

"  You've  got  to  have  faith,"  she  said,  a  far-away 
look  in  her  eyes,  "  when  you  can't  understand.  If 
you  can't,  or  don't  believe  —  why,  what  happens 
won't  matter  much.  I  want  it  to  be  so  with  Chet, 
Mr.  Todd.  Won't  you  give  me  your  promise?  " 

In  the  end,  Dabney  promised,  and  Nance  knew 
his  promises  were  too  sparingly  given,  ever  to  be 
doubted.  The  old  man's  word  had  ever  been  his 
bond,  and  no  bond  ever  written  could  have  held  him 
more  tightly  than  his  simple  "  Yes  "  or  "  No." 

Though  it  tremendously  embarrassed  him,  he 
drove  her  straight  to  the  doors  of  the  Seneca  Inn, 
and  serenely  failed  to  see  Larry  Shayne  staring  out 
at  him,  unable  to  believe  his  own  vice-sodden  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BLUEBIRDS    OF    HAPPINESS 

NEEVEY   TODD,   passing   Nona    Haynes' 
house  that  same  afternoon,  heard  a  lot  of 
girls  giggling  inside.     She  stopped  invol 
untarily.     Before  she  could  go  on,  Nona  looked  out 
the  open  window  and  waved  invitingly  at  Neevey. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Todd,  won't  you  come  in  and  help 
us?  "  she  cried.  "  We've  got  some  fancy  sewing  we 
don't  know  just  how  to  do.  We  won't  keep  you 
very  long." 

Neevey  smiled  at  the  flattery  and  went  in.  There 
came  a  chorus  of  "  Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Todd!  " 
and  Myrtle  Lewis  held  up  a  long  strip  of  white  linen 
before  her  the  instant  she  had  settled  into  a  com 
fortable  arm-chair. 

"What's  that  thing?"  she  asked.  "Looks  like 
one  o'  them  cloths  I've  seen  at  the  circus,  with  a  hole 
for  the  colored  man's  head  to  go  through,  when  you 
pay  a  nickel  to  throw  balls  at  him.  I  seen  Chet 
land  on  him  three  times,  hand-runnin'." 

171 


1 72  DABNEY  TODD 

"  It's  a  fudge  apron,"  announced  Nona  Haynes, 
solemnly. 

"A  what?" 

"  A  fudge  apron.  You  know,  making  fudge  is  a 
messy  job,  and  a  girl  doesn't  like  to  get  her  nice 
white  waist  and  skirt  all  brown  and  sticky  with 
chocolate.  Cash  Bailey  brought  these  aprons  the 
last  time  he  was  here,  and  most  of  the  girls  bought 
one.  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  try  to  sell  you  one, 
Mrs.  Todd." 

"  He  knowed  better,"  sniffed  Neevey.  "  But  tell 
me  how  this  thing  works." 

;'  Why,  you  push  your  head  through  this  hole,  and 
the  apron  comes  down  in  front  and  behind.  It's 
stamped  for  embroidery  around  the  neck,  and  in 
front  there  will  be  a  bird,  with  wings  outspread. 
Cash  said  the  design  was  '  Bluebirds  of  Happiness.'  ' 

"  Trust  Cash  Bailey  for  giving  his  goods  a  fancy 
name,"  commented  Neevey.  "Well?" 

"  Here's  the  silk  floss,  four  beautiful  shades  of 
blue,  for  the  bluebirds,"  put  in  Myrtle  Lewis,  hold 
ing  it  up.  "  But  none  of  us  knows  exactly  how  to 
begin.  Won't  you  show  us?  " 

"  Me,  an  ole  woman,  show  you  smart  young  things 
how  to  embroider?  "  protested  Neevey,  pretending 
embarrassment.  "  Land  o'  livin',  you'll  git  me  more 


BLUEBIRDS  OF  HAPPINESS         173 

excited  than  a  cat  at  a  mouse-show.  Go  on  'long 
with  you!  " 

"  Please,  please !  "  begged  Myrtle,  laughing. 
"  Nobody  knows  half  as  much  about  anything,  as 
you  do! " 

Neevey  could  not  resist  the  coaxing,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  she  had  set  them  all  to  work,  while  she  went 
from  one  to  the  other,  to  see  how  they  were  getting 
on. 

"  Embroiderin'  is  a  thing  that  has  to  be  done 
right  from  the  beginnin',"  she  proclaimed.  "  I 
mean  that  for  you,  Milly  Watkins.  You've  begun 
the  right  wing  of  that  bluebird  so  nat'ral  that  it's 
goin'  to  seem  ready  to  fly  off  the  apron.  But  the 
way  you've  started  the  other  will  make  it  drop  as  if 
it  belonged  to  a  sick  chicken.  You'll  have  to  be 
careful  you  don't  git  the  silk  raveled,  too,  or  you'll 
be  plumb  ashamed  o'  that  work  when  you  git  through. 
I  think  this  fudge  apron  notion  is  all  foolishness, 
anyhow.  The  idee  of  all  you  gals  comin'  together 
just  to  make  these  here  things." 

"  It  wasn't  only  to  make  fudge  aprons,"  cor 
rected  Nona  Haynes.  "  We're  going  to  hold  a 
*  Hope  Box  '  meeting,  and  we  thought  we  could  talk 
it  over  while  we  embroidered." 

"What   in   the   world   is   a   hope  box?"   asked 


i74  DABNEY  TODD 

Neevey.  "  I  b'lieve  I've  heard  the  word  before, 
but  I  don't  rightly  know,  even  now,  jest  what  it  is." 

Hazel  Devine  —  the  school  teacher  —  was  in  the 
habit  of  taking  a  serious  and  academic  view  of  things. 
She  held  up  one  hand  to  command  attention. 

Rather  tall  and  thin,  this  damsel  of  about  thirty 
summers  and  a  few  extra  winters,  had  been  unfor 
tunate  enough  to  have  had  a  smattering  of  Bostonese 
impressed  upon  her  in  her  teens.  Now  she  never 
let  an  opportunity  pass  to  remind  everybody  of  the 
fact. 

"  A  hope  box,"  she  elucidated,  with  her  best  Bos 
ton  manner,  "  is  a  chest,  or  drawer,  in  which  a  girl 
places  all  the  things  she  is  preparing  for  use  after 
she  is  married." 

"  You  mean,  she  hopes  to  be  married,  so  she  calls 
it  a  '  hope  box,'  Hazel?  "  tittered  Milly  Watkins. 

Hazel  ignored  the  interruption.  "  That  is  my 
understanding,"  she  went  on.  "  She'll  require  house 
linen  of  all  kinds,  new  clothing  for  herself,  fancy 
articles  of  decoration,  and  so  on.  Even  fudge 
aprons  are  good  things  to  put  in  a  hope  box." 

"  Well,  now,  where  is  the  meeting  to  be  held?  " 
asked  Myrtle.  "  That's  the  next  question." 

"  At  my  house,"  offered  Nona  Haynes.  "  Of 
course,  mother's  not  very  well,  now,  but  I'm  sure 


BLUEBIRDS  OF  HAPPINESS         175 

she  will  be  better  by  the  time  we  have  the  meeting. 
It's  to  be  two  weeks  from  to-day.  We  settled  that 
before." 

There  was  more  discussion  of  the  hope  box  meet 
ing,  but  Neevey  took  no  part  in  it.  Indeed,  the  only 
reason  that  kept  her  after  seeing  that  the  girls  were 
all  well  started  on  their  embroidery,  was  that  she 
wanted  to  ask  about  Nona's  mother.  This  estim 
able  lady  had  long  been  New  Canaan's  most  distin 
guished  invalid,  her  ailments  furnishing  a  subject  of 
gossip  that  the  community  would  sorely  have  missed, 
had  the  sufferer  by  any  chance  been  restored  to 
health. 

"  I  s'pose  she's  in  bed,  Nona?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Yes.  The  doctor  said  that  was  the  best  place 
for  her,  and* she's  taking  medicine  regularly." 

"Medicine?"  echoed  Neevey,  scornfully.  "Health 
is  allers  more  in  the  open  air  than  in  bottles. 
That's  what  I  told  the  doctor  when  I  had  that 
bad  spell  last  winter.  He  'lowed  I  was  'bout  right, 
but  he  had  to  give  me  pills  and  things,  too.  He 
decided  it  was  indigestion  more'n  anything.  He 
pulled  me  through  all  right." 

"  Doctor  Rand  generally  does,"  remarked  Hazel, 
in  her  quiet  way.  "  When  he  doesn't,  it  is  usually 
because  he  hasn't  been  called  in  time." 


176  DABNEY  TODD 

"  That's  so,"  agreed  Neevey,  quickly.  "  Most 
of  'em  is  so  afraid  to  spend  a  dollar  on  a  doctor  that 
they  wait  till  they're  nearly  dead  before  they  send 
for  him.  Then,  if  he  don't  raise  'em  right  out  of 
the  grave  —  the  way  the  Lord  did  Lazarus  —  they 
say  he  ain't  a  good  doctor.  Some  folks  in  New 
Canaan  are  so  tight,  they  wouldn't  invest  a  nickel 
for  seed  that  would  give  them  ten-dollar  bills." 

"  You  weren't  confined  to  your  bed  when  you  were 
sick  last  spring?"  asked  Hazel,  with  an  effort  to 
change  the  line  of  conversation  for  Clarissa  Howe's 
benefit,  Clarissa's  well  known  parsimony  being  no 
secret. 

"  Oh,  no.  Jest  didn't  feel  right  —  that  was  all. 
Doc  Rand  give  me  a  list  of  things  I  mustn't  eat,  and 
said  I'd  die  if  I  didn't  go  to  bed  and  keep  still.  He 
said  my  case  was  a  good  deal  like  Tim  Cronin's. 
Well,  doctors  don't  know  everything.  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  if  I  had  to  die,  I'd  do  it  in  the  open 
air.  It  was  late  in  the  spring,  and  cherries  was  ripe 
—  some  of  'em,  at  least.  So  I  got  a  ladder  an' 
things,  and  I  picked  cherries  off  that  big  tree  near 
our  barn  for  four  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
I'd  picked  enough  to  make  all  the  cherry-butter  I 
needed  for  the  year,  and  I  was  better'n  I'd  been 
since  I  was  a  young  girl." 


BLUEBIRDS  OF  HAPPINESS         177 

"  You  couldn't  have  been  as  sick  as  Tim  Cronin," 
remarked  Hazel.  "  He  died." 

"  Of  course  he  did.  He  took  cold  from  movin' 
about  the  cellar  one  winter.  He  was  subject  to  'em 
anyhow.  He'd  take  cold  if  anybody  left  the  piano 
open  after  dark.  When  his  wife  found  how  bad 
he  was,  she  put  him  to  bed  and  packed  hot  water 
bottles  all  around  him.  But  the  cork  come  out  of 
one  o'  the  bottles,  and  Tim  jumped  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  howlin'  that  he  was  on  fire.  That  ex- 
posin'  of  him  made  him  worse,  an'  soon  he  couldn't 
set  up.  He  only  lived  three  weeks  after  that. 
Well,  now,  let  me  look  over  the  work  you  gals  are 
doin'  on  your  fudge  aprons,  and  I'll  go." 

"  Don't  go  yet,"  begged  Myrtle.  "  We're  sure 
to  get  our  work  wrong  if  you  leave  us." 

"  If  you  can't  do  it  when  I'm  away,  you  can't  make 
nothin'  of  'em  anyhow,"  rejoined  Neevey.  "  What 
are  you  laughin'  at,  Myrtle?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  about  poor  Tim  Cronin,  and  how 
easy  it  was  for  him  to  take  cold.  I  guess  I  oughtn't 
to  laugh,  but  it  seems  so  funny." 

"  Well,  I  was  sorry  for  Tim  —  an'  still  more  for 
Norah.  She'd  been  a  good  wife  to  him,  an'  she 
felt  real  bad  when  Tim  was  laid  away.  Said  she'd 
most  goshawful  miss  the  Saturday  night  beatin's 


i78  DABNEY  TODD 

he'd  been  givin'  her,  regular,  for  more  'n  twenty- 
seven  years.  They  took  the  place  of  massidge  an' 
Swedish  gymnastics  with  her,  I  reckon.  Laughin', 
be  you?  All  right,  girls,  laugh  away.  There's 
nothin'  wicked  in  laughin'  when  you  see  a  joke  —  if 
it's  decent.  I  used  to  think  it  was  sinful  to  have 
fun.  But  I  tell  you  gals  there  ain't  nothin's  so 
healthy  for  the  complexion  as  a  good  laugh.  It  may 
be  bad  for  the  teeth,  though,  if  you  ain't  careful. 
You  remember  Mrs.  Sullivan,  who  used  to  live  out 
the  east  road,  near  Plover's  Creek?  " 

"  I  remember  her  very  well,"  answered  Hazel, 
completely  bored  to  death. 

"  Yes.  Well,  she  had  too  much  fun  one  time. 
She  was  at  the  circus,  an'  she  laughed  so  hard  at  the 
clown,  that  she  cracked  her  upper  plate  in  two 
places." 

Neevey  departed  while  the  girls  were  still  gig 
gling  over  her  last  sally,  and  in  a  minute  or  two 
they  all  settled  down  to  make  final  arrangements 
about  the  hope  box  meeting. 

They  decided,  after  considerable  discussion,  that 
it  should  be  held  at  Nona  Haynes',  at  the  time  al 
ready  set,  provided  her  mother  had  quite  recovered 
in  the  meantime. 

"  Don't    forget,    girls,"   laughed   Myrtle   Lewis, 


BLUEBIRDS  OF  HAPPINESS         179 

"  that  one  of  the  rules  of  the  Hope  Box  Society  will 
be  that  whoever  is  married  within  a  year  is  to  have 
anything  she  wants  out  of  all  the  other  girls'  hope 
boxes.  That  was  my  idea." 

"  A  very  commendable  one,"  pronounced  Hazel 
solemnly.  "  Charmingly  splendid,  I  should  call  it 
—  if  you  comprehend  the  significance  of  my  allu 


sion." 


CHAPTER  XV 

BARNEY  3HAYNE  LAYS  DOWN  THE  LAW 

IT  was  just  about  the  time  the  girls  were  leaving 
Nona  Haynes',  that  Dabney  said  good-by  to 
Nance  in  front  of  Barney  Shayne's  hotel. 
Larry  had  figured,  all  along,  that  once  Nance  had 
compromised  herself  sufficiently  to  be  ignored  by  the 
townspeople,  she  would,  in  her  anger  and  humilia 
tion,  turn  to  him  and  provide  him  with  an  easy  op 
portunity  to  get  both  the  girl  and  the  farm.  He 
knew  her  desire  to  keep  her  work  in  Redburn  a  secret 
would  bring  that  result  about  quicker  than  anything 
he  could  contrive.  The  sight  of  Dabney  standing 
out  in  front,  handing  the  girl  down  from  his  buggy, 
with  rough  courtesy,  was  a  shock  to  his  plans.  He 
had  contemplated  nothing  of  the  kind.  This  de 
velopment  introduced  serious  complications  into  his 
wolf-hunt  of  the  girl. 

It  was  not  until  Nance  was  having  dinner  that 
Larry  joined  her.  He  had  made  no  progress  to 
ward  getting  her  consent  to  sell  the  farm,  and  of 

180 


SHAYNE  LAYS  DOWN  THE  LAW     181 

late  her  talk  on  the  subject  had  become  so  pointed 
as  to  make  it  a  decidedly  unpleasant  matter  to  bring 
up. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  people  were  demanding 
action,  and  had  threatened  to  try  and  secure  the 
property  through  other  parties,  if  he  could  not 
shortly  close  the  transaction.  Larry  had  raised  his 
price  to  Nance  repeatedly,  until  now  it  nearly  dou 
bled  his  original  offer.  As  for  the  girl  herself, 
Larry  knew  he  had  been  only  marking  time.  Now, 
sitting  down  beside  her,  jealousy  and  disappointment 
showed  plainly  in  his  eyes.  It  was  so  early  that  the 
cafe  was  empty  and  he  was  glad  they  were  alone. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  on  his  good-looking 
face,  "  I  see  father-in-law  is  right  on  the  job." 

Nance  understood  the  reference. 

"Father-in-law?"  she  inquired.  "A  mighty  good 
friend,  I  should  call  him,  nothing  more.  I  don't 
know  of  anything  that  would  lead  you  to  jump 
to  that  conclusion."  She  paused.  "  Evidently  you 
aren't  pleased  at  his  bringing  me  here." 

"  Say,  look  here,  Nance,"  he  cried.  "  Don't  play 
with  me  like  that.  You  bet  I  ain't  crazy  about  see 
ing  that  old  chromo  drive  you  up  here.  I've  had 
that  Todd  family  rubbed  under  my  nose  till  I'm  sick 
of  them.  Friendship?  Humph!  I  suppose  it  was 


1 82  DABNEY  TODD 

friendship  that  made  Chet  Todd  chase  Martin 
Doover  out  of  Link  Watkins's  store  because  Mart 
was  foolish  enough  to  make  a  crack  at  him  about 
you  and  me.  Oh,  you  didn't  know  anything  about 
that?  "  He  watched  her  closely. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  the  only  one  who  didn't," 
he  continued.  "  I  don't  care  what  you  say.  I  know 
that  rube  jack-of-all-trades  has  got  his  heart  set  on 
marrying  you  some  day." 

In  vain  Nance  tried  to  stop  him. 

"  Yes,  and  now  the  old  man's  got  to  bringing  you 
over  here  to  work.  Course  he  ain't  got  anything  to 
do  —  nothing  else  to  keep  him  busy.  So  he  goes 
riding  round  the  country  with  you.  I  tell  you, 
Nance,  it's  all  poppycock.  I'll  bet  my  life  on  it, 
that  old  mossback's  been  filling  you  up  with  a  lot  of 
dope  about  not  selling  the  farm." 

Nance's  eyelashes  quivered  ever  so  lightly,  but  it 
was  sign  enough.  Larry  Shayne  knew  his  chance 
shot  had  struck  home. 

"Sure!  Of  course  not!  That  old  miser  wants 
it  himself,  and  he  knows  if  he  keeps  it  away  from 
me,  he'll  get  it  in  time." 

Nance  stood  up,  her  cheeks  flaming.  Her  chair, 
falling  over,  set  up  a  din  in  the  deserted  cafe. 

"  You  —  you  beast !  "  she  flung  at  him. 


SHAYNE  LAYS  DOWN  THE  LAW     183 

Larry  grasped  her  hand  tightly.  The  fingers  of 
his  other  hand  held  her  arm  in  a  vise.  The  fight 
was  gone  out  of  him  now. 

"Nance!"  he  pleaded.  "Nance!  For  God's 
sake,  tell  me  you  ain't  thinking  of  marrying  that 
rube!  You  can't  do  it,  Nance!  You  can't! 
What's  he  going  to  be  able  to  give  you?  You  can't 
tie  yourself  up  for  life  to  a  man  like  Chet  Todd ! 
I  tell  you,  I  won't  let  you !  —  I  love  you !  "  he  whis 
pered  hoarsely.  "  I  love  you,  little  girl  —  honest  to 
God  I  do !  I'll  own  this  place  some  day.  We'll 
have  money  to  burn,  you  and  me !  Nance  — 
Nance !  "  < 

He  was  beside  himself,  his  voice  rising  louder  and 
louder,  as  the  girl  managed  to  wrench  herself  free. 

In  the  doorway  stood  Barney.  His  eagle  eyes 
took  in  the  scene  instantly.  Though  ever  an  in 
dulgent  father,  his  complaisance  ceased  when  it  in 
terfered  with  business. 

The  boy  winced  under  that  glowering  gaze. 

"  You  damn  fool !  "  he  yelled.  "  Is  this  the  kind 
of  stuff  you're  trying  to  pull  on  me?  They  ain't 
enough  people  howlin'  already  —  you  got  to  help  it 
along.  If  you've  got  any  more  of  this  up  your 
sleeve,  you  go  somewhere  else  and  get  it  out  of  you. 
A  hell  of  a  lot  of  help  you  are  to  me!  " 


1 84  DABNEY  TODD 

Larry  shrugged  his  shoulders  —  but  he  went. 
Too  well  he  knew  his  father  even  to  think,  for  so 
much  as  a  single  second,  of  arguing  with  him. 

Barney  turned  to  Nance  with  a  command : 
'  You  let  that  kid  alone  —  d'ye  understand,  miss? 
If  you  and  him  gets  into  any  argument,  don't  have  it 
here,  or  you'll  be  lookin'  for  a  job." 

Nance  meekly  bowed  her  head  as  he  stamped  out. 
She  knew  explanation  was  useless  here. 

In  the  weeks  she  had  been  working  for  him  Bar 
ney  Shayne  had  not  addressed  her  more  than  a  half- 
dozen  times.  Yet  Nance  knew  she  could  repeat 
wofd  for  word,  that  minute,  if  necessity  offered, 
every  command  he  had  made. 

When  he  spoke,  his  world  moved. 

There  were  times  when  the  place  nauseated  her, 
and  she  wondered  if  she  could  go  on.  Dabney's 
offer  opened  the  way  for  her,  but  Nance  knew  she 
could  not  avail  herself  of  it  without  risk  of  losing 
Chet. 

He  must  come  to  her.  She  could  not  go  to  him. 
That  was  as  final  as  the  law. 

That  night,  staring  through  the  tobacco  smoke, 
and  unmindful  of  the  clattering  dishes  and  licentious 
laughter,  she  thought  of  Chet  and  recalled  his  anger 
the  evening,  so  long  ago,  when  he  had  found  her 


NANCE'S  EYELASHES  QUIVERED  EVER  SO  LIGHTLY,  BUT  IT 
\VAS  SIGN  ENOUGH.  LARRY  SHAYNE  KNEW  HIS  CHANCE  SHOT 
HAD  STRUCK  HOME. 


SHAYNE  LAYS  DOWN  THE  LAW     185 

brooding  over  her  father,  and  the  relief  in  his  eyes 
that  she  had  not  heard  of  his  tilt  with  Martin. 

He  had  been  willing  to  fight  for  her!  He  had 
done  the  one,  big,  primitive  thing  no  woman  can  re 
sist  —  to  throw  down  the  gauge  of  battle  in  her 
behalf! 

How  well  she  remembered  the  first  day  her  father 
and  she  had  driven  over  to  New  Canaan.  Their 
horse  had  cast  a  shoe,  and  Chet  had  replaced  it. 
She  had  watched  the  big  muscles  playing  over  his 
back,  and  the  giant  arms  of  him.  Yet  he  was  only 
a  boy  —  with  a  boy's  face  —  but  he  had  a  man's 
strength.  The  friendly  walks,  the  choir  work,  and 
all  the  little  intimacies  they  had  known,  came  back 
to  her. 

Sitting  there,  her  eyes  and  ears  filled  with  the 
coarseness  and  tawdriness  of  the  people  around  her, 
she  saw  Chet  through  everything  —  and  was  happy. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CHET  MAKES   A   START 

DABNEY,  true  to  his  promise,  said  nothing  to 
Chet.     He  had  satisfied  himself  his  boy  was 
not  building  air-castles  that  would  tumble 
down  upon  him  and  break  his  heart  when  his  efforts 
and  ambitions  had  ceased  to  amuse  the  lady  of  his 
dreams. 

Chet  had  walked  home  from  church  with  Nance 
several  times  recently,  and  a  great  happiness  had 
dawned  in  the  girl's  eyes  at  knowledge  of  Chet's 
determination  to  strike  out  for  himself. 

But  there  had  been  no  mention  of  Larry  Shayne 
or  Redburn.  The  multitudinous  duties  facing  Chet 
absorbed  every  waking  hour.  Already  the  garage 
was  taking  shape,  and  Chet  expected  to  go  to  Syra 
cuse  the  following  week,  to  confer  with  the  manu 
facturers  he  hoped  to  represent. 

Though  the  actual  work  of  building  the  garage 
had  been  left  to  a  contractor,  the  general  idea  was 

186 


CHET  iMAKES  A  START  187 

Chet's  own.  He  knew  what  he  wanted  —  an  ample 
fireproof  structure,  the  walls  of  cement  blocks,  and 
the  roof  of  iron  and  glass. 

The  erection  of  such  a  pretentious  building,  unlike 
anything  else  in  New  Canaan,  naturally  caused  a 
flutter  in  the  village,  and  drew  from  Link  Watkins' 
store  and  elsewhere  a  group  of  earnest  watchers. 
These  had  made  sage  comments  from  time  to  time, 
and  would  have  offered  suggestions  to  the  rather 
fiery  Irish  contractor,  if  he  would  have  permitted  it. 

City  or  country,  the  human  race  can  find  few  di 
versions  more  fascinating  than  idly  watching  other 
people  work  and  telling  them  just  what  to  do.  The 
pointing  out  of  errors,  in  particular,  is  a  form  of 
sport  irresistible  to  man. 

"  Reckon  we'll  all  have  to  git  autymobiles  now," 
observed  Tite  Showell.  "  When  this  place  is  ready, 
it's  goin'  to  drive  you  out  o'  business,  Dabney." 

"  Wa'al,  if  it  does,  what  then?  "  rejoined  Dabney. 
"  The  business'll  still  be  in  the  family.  Besides,  I 
might  turn  my  own  shop  into  a  garage  if  the  time 
ever  come  when  they  warn't  no  more  horseshoein' 
to  be  done." 

"  They's  one  thing,"  chuckled  Paul  Cuddeback. 
"  You're  purty  good  at  drivin'  an  autymobile  —  into 
an  ice  meadow,  eh,  Dabney?  " 


1 88  DABNEY  TODD 

This  allusion  caused  a  general  guffaw,  and  Tite, 
during  the  merriment,  stepped  into  the  open  cement 
box. 

"  Stand  back  there,  you  fellers!  "  growled  Mur 
phy,  the  contractor.  "  Keep  out  o'  my  cement,  will 
yer?" 

Tite  Showell  spluttered  an  incoherent  retort,  as 
he  tried  to  scrape  the  cement  off  his  shoe  with  a 
shovel. 

"  They  ain't  nuthin'  slow  about  that  boy,  Dab- 
ney,"  he  said  later. 

"  No,  sir !  Nothin'  slow  about  Chet,"  nodded 
Dabney.  "  He  don't  need  no  contractor,  as  a  mat 
ter  o'  fact.  He  could  have  done  it  all  himself. 
But  he  keeps  Murphy  right  on  the  job,  by  tellin'  him 
how  well  he's  doin'.  Wa'al,  you  fellows  do  the 
bossin'.  I'll  have  to  be  gittin'  back  to  my  own  place, 
to  see  how  Amos  is  gittin'  along.  Horseshoein'  ain't 
played  out  yet,  not  by  a  dummed  sight,  even  if  we  are 
goin'  to  have  a  garage  in  town." 

"  Don't  see  no  place  for  lightnin'-rods,"  Spencer 
Howe  observed  to  Tite.  "  I  don't  set  much  store 
by  'em,  'cause  if  the  good  Lord  wants  to  strike  a 
buildin'  with  a  bolt  from  heaven,  nothin'  man  can 
do  is  goin'  to  stop  Him.  But  a  lightnin'-rod  is  a 
sort  of  appeal  to  Him  —  a  kind  o'  prayer  for  mercy 


CHET  MAKES  A  START  189 

—  an'  He  allers  answers  prayers  when  it's  His  will." 

"  Maybe  Chet  figures  lightnin'-rods  is  as  ole- 
fashioned  as  horses,"  Tite  commented. 

Day  after  day,  as  the  building  progressed,  there 
was  a  crowd  of  idlers  noting  and  criticizing.  By  the 
time  it  was  finished,  most  of  them  were  certain  they 
could  build  a  garage  themselves,  if  they  wanted 
one. 

Among  those  particularly  interested  in  the  new 
garage  was  Hazel  Devine.  Each  afternoon  she  had 
gone  a  little  out  of  her  way,  so  that  she  could  pass 
the  building,  and  always  she  had  chanced  to  meet 
Chet  and  exchange  a  greeting,  following  it  with  a 
remark  as  to  the  progress  of  the  work. 

The  garage  walls  were  up,  and  the  workmen  were 
putting  the  roof  on,  when  one  afternoon  Hazel 
stopped  Chet. 

"  Mr.  Todd,  I  think  your  garage  is  too  cute  for 
anything,"  she  began. 

"Yes?"  responded  Chet. 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it?  What  would  we  do  if 
it  were  not  for  men  like  you,  who  think  of  the  higher 
things  —  if  you  understand  me.  You  are  going  to 
sell  motors,  too  —  aren't  you,  Mr.  Todd?  " 

"  That's  one  reason  why  I'm  building  the  garage," 
replied  Chet. 


1 90  DABNEY  TODD 

The  little  school-mistress  smiled  coyly,  and  fum 
bled  with  a  letter  in  her  bag. 

"  I'm  going  to  impart  a  secret  to  you,  Mr.  Todd," 
she  simpered,  with  a  glance  at  the  boy  that  indicated 
she  might,  had  he  been  willing  to  listen,  have  told 
him  a  very  personal  one. 

"  Thanks !  "  was  Chet's  dry  answer.  "  But  don't 
you  do  nothin'  rash,  now,  Hazel." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Todd!  "  she  tittered.  "  You  are  so 
—  what  shall  I  say?  —  au  fait!  " 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  look  that  up,  and  if  it's  what 
I  think  it  is,  you  look  out.  Now  for  the  secret. 
What  is  it?"  asked  Chet. 

"  Oh,  yes !  Well,  I  thought  it  would  be  highly 
elevating,  as  well  as  educational,  if  you  understood 
me,  if  I  could  drive  my  own  car  back  and  forth  to 
school.  The  children,  the  dears !  would  appreciate 
it,  don't  you  think?  We  must  not  forget  the  ex 
ample  we  set  the  little  ones.  So  I  asked  papa  if  he 
wouldn't  buy  me  an  automobile.  I  told  him  I  could 
get  one  here,  from  you,  and  that  if  he  would  send 
me  the  money,  I  would  engage  a  car  at  once.  And 
he  has  consented.  So  I  want  you  to  enter  me  for 
one  of  your  very  best  ones.  Something  refined  — 
if  you  understand  what  I  mean.  Small,  but  fash 
ionable.  I  detest  those  large,  vulgar  cars." 


CHET  MAKES  A  START  191 

Chet  was  helpless  before  this  avalanche  of  talk. 
Here  he  had  sold  a  car  before  he  had  any  cars  to 
sell. 

"  Do  you  mean  you're  ready  to  buy  a  car  of  me 
now,  Hazel?  " 

"  Quite  so.  This  letter  I  have  just  received  from 
papa  gives  his  consent,  and  insures  me  the  required 
cash  when  it  shall  be  demanded.  I  should  like  you 
to  furnish  me  with  a  car  as  soon  as  you  are  open  for 
business." 

"  A  business  man  is  always  open  for  business," 
replied  Chet,  repeating  an  axiom  that  had  been  im 
pressed  upon  him  by  Cash  Bailey.  "  I  can  promise 
you  the  car  within  two  weeks." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Todd,  how  perfectly  sublime !  Do 
you  know,  I  think  the  sensation  of  gliding  along  the 
great  highway,  with  no  effort  on  your  part,  and  the 
engine  of  your  car,  like  a  sentient  thing,  absorbing 
its  —  its  — " 

"Gas?"  suggested  Chet.  "That's  what  makes 
it  run,  same  as  hot  air  makes  lots  of  people  go." 

Hazel's  smile  became  chilly.  The  atmosphere 
grew  frigid  to  such  a  marked  degree.  Chet  was  no 
fool,  and  could  not  help  knowing  that  Hazel  Devine 
had  exhibited  a  ladylike  and  academic  preference  for 
him  on  many  occasions,  much  to  his  embarrassment. 


1 92  DABNEY  TODD 

She  gazed  at  him  now  with  a  thoughtful  affection 
that  might  lead  her  to  throw  herself  into  his  arms, 
for  anything  he  knew.  So  he  hurried  back  to  the 
business  proposition  with  which  the  conversation  had 
begun,  and  asked  her  if  she  was  prepared  to  pay  the 
customary  deposit  of  fifty  dollars  before  he  ordered 
the  car. 

She  nodded  her  head  at  him  coyly. 
'  You're  a  regular  business  man,  aren't  you,  Mr. 
Todd?  Papa  has  enclosed  a  check  in  this  letter.  It 
was  that  fortunate  circumstance  that  encouraged  me 
to  speak  to  you  about  the  car.  And,  oh,  Mr.  Todd, 
will  you  really  show  me  how  to  make  myself  pro 
ficient  in  the  management  of  my  new  car?  " 

"  I'll  do  it,  of  course,"  was  his  short  reply.  Cash 
had  said  nothing  about  this  end  of  the  business. 
"  If  you'll  come  to  my  father's  office  I'll  give  you  a 
receipt  for  the  fifty.  Of  course  you  know  the  make 
you  want? " 

"  Why,  no,  Mr.  Todd,"  she  hesitated.  "  Get  me 
one  of  your  prettiest  ones.  Really  I  have  no  prefer 
ence  as  to  who  makes  it." 

Chet  gave  her  a  receipt  for  the  money,  and  after 
five  minutes  of  talk  about  the  higher  planes  of  the' 
new  freedom,  Hazel  went  her  way. 

If  there  was  any  one  in  New  Canaan,  save  Nance, 


CHET  MAKES  A  START  193 

who  failed  to  pass  judgment  on  his  business,  or  the 
prospects  he  had  of  succeeding,  Chet  could  not  re 
call  them.  Even  Joe  Pelot  had  hobbled  his  way 
down  town  to  look  over  the  situation. 

And  yet  the  one  who  did  not  come  was  the  one 
Chet  missed  and  longed  for  the  most.  If  he  had 
known,  there  was  no  one  who  wanted  to  be  there 
so  much  as  Nance.  For  her  it  was  the  realization 
of  Chet's  dream,  and  she  felt  a  strange  desire  to 
caress  and  fondle  every  bit  of  brick  and  stone  that 
had  gone  into  the  building  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   HOPE   BOX   SOCIETY 

THE  day  set  for  the  organization  of  the  Hope 
Box  Society  was  a  beautiful  one,  with  a 
cloudless  sky  giving  promise  of  continued 
fine  weather. 

By  three  o'clock  everybody  invited  was  in  Nona 
Haynes's  home.  It  had  been  decided  that,  besides 
girls,  it  would  be  well  to  have  some  of  the  matrons 
of  the  village  present,  to  give  steadiness  to  the  pro 
ceedings.  So  Neevey  Todd,  Clarissa  Howe  and 
Mrs.  Link  Watkins  were  present. 

Hazel  Devine  opened  the  meeting  by  explaining 
the  object  of  the  Society. 

"  It  has  been  observed,"  she  said,  "  that  some  of 
the  brides  in  New  Canaan  in  the  last  few  years 
have  lacked  tablecloths,  pillow-slips,  quilts  and  many 
other  luxuries  so  necessary  to  the  refined  home. 
Sometimes  such  things  have  been  given  to  her,  but 
there  has  been  no  regularity  about  it.  The  Hope 

194 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          195 

Box  Society  is  therefore  greatly  needed,  especially 
by  such  of  us  as  still  entertain  hopes  —  I  mean  — 
by  those  who  —  expect  —  oh  dear,  you  know  what  I 
mean  — " 

Blushing  in  her  most  girlish  manner,  she  glanced 
about  the  room. 

"  Very  good !  "  commended  Neevey,  anxious  to 
cut  Hazel  short.  "  I  think  we  should  do  good  to 
others  while  helpin'  ourselves.  It's  only  single  gals 
who  want  hope  boxes.  But,  as  I  am  here,  I'll  vol 
unteer  my  services.  Let's  git  to  work." 

Now  everybody  brought  out  the  particular  thing 
she  intended  doing,  and  settled  down  to  sewing. 
Needles  flashed,  and  the  snip-snip  of  scissors,  with 
an  occasional  snap  of  thread,  made  a  musical  ac 
companiment  to  the  trickle  of  talk  that  intermit 
tently  flowed  on  and  on. 

Neevey  broke  a  short  silence,  as  she  finished  a 
hem. 

"  Reminds  me  of  when  we  was  gittin'  ready  for 
your  shower,  Clarissa,  jest  afore  you  married 
Spencer." 

"  Huh-huh !  "  mumbled  Mrs.  Howe,  without  look 
ing  up  from  her  work. 

"  My  stars !  "  continued  Neevey.  "  That  was  a 
long  time  ago !  " 


196  DABNEY  TODD 

"  I  dunno's  it  was  so  very  long,"  was  Clarissa's  in 
dignant  retort.  ''  We  ain't  none  of  us  as  young 
as  we  was  then.  You  was  married  to  Dabney  quite 
a  spell  before  Spence  got  me." 

"  We  was  married  thirty-two  years  ago,  come 
next  October,  the  ninth,"  said  Neevey,  promptly. 

"Is  that  all?"  rejoined  Clarissa,  with  a  certain 
gleam  in  her  small  eyes.  "  Dabney  was  sayin'  to 
Spence  yesterday  he  believed  he'd  been  married  forty 
years,  or  a  little  better.  Reckon  it  seemed  so  to 
him." 

A  tap  at  the  door  opening  on  the  porch  inter 
rupted  this  little  tilt. 

"  Why,  Lena  Klumm!  "  cried  Nona,  in  a  tone  of 
welcome.  "  Come  right  in.  Take  your  hat  an' 
cloak  off.  Here's  a  chair." 

Lena  was  a  large  woman  of  middle  age,  with 
yellow  hair,  big  red  arms  which  gleamed  through 
her  thin  white  waist  as  if  they  would  set  the  sleeves 
afire,  and  a  long  face,  with  a  determined  jaw. 

She  took  off  a  hat  like  a  black  pancake,  and  a 
brocaded  silk  cape  of  archaic  pattern.  Then,  as  she 
unwrapped  a  paper  parcel  she  had  brought,  she  said 
—  rather  indistinctly,  for  she  had  three  pins  from 
the  package  in  her  mouth: 

"  I  hadn't  no  invite  to  this  meetin',  but  I  heard 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          197 

at  the  store,  as  ever'body  in  town  was  expected  to 
come.  There's  to  be  doin's  to-night,  too,  ain't 
they?" 

"  Yes.  The  men  folks  an'  everybody  is  comin', 
and  there'll  be  speakin'  an'  singin'.  I'm  going  to  re 
cite,"  Nona  informed  her. 

"  I  s'pose  you'll  let  Titus  come  to-night,  Lena?  " 
grinned  Clarissa. 

Lena  Klumm  looked  coquettish. 

"  Oh,  g'long,  Clarissa !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
could  I  keep  him  away  if  he  wants  to  come?  Who 
said  they  was  anythin'  between  Titus  an'  I?  I 
hope  to  goodness  they  ain't  no  idle  gossip  runnin' 
round  this  village,  about  us,  when  they  ain't  no  call 
for  it." 

''Well,  ain't  they?"  persisted  Neevey.  "Titus 
'lowed  to  me  the  other  day  as  he  might  want  to 
use  some  o'  the  silk  gowns  an'  jew'lry  Martha  left 
behind  her.  I  knowed  then  what  was  likely  to  hap 
pen,  an'  I  s'picioned  who  he  had  his  eye  on,  for  his 
second.  You  know,  Lena,  whether  my  guess  was 
correct.  Anyhow,  if  you  want  a  hope  box,  it  don't 
need  no  prophet  out  o'  Judah  to  tell  me  why.  You 
ought  to  make  Tite  give  you  one." 

'*  Well,  of  course,"  gurgled  Lena,  trying  to  blush. 
"  Titus  could  cut  down  one  o'  them  cedars  in  his 


198  DABNEY  TODD 

wood-lot  an'  make  a  box  for  me  that'd  be  jest  what 
I  want.  But  —  Lordy!  —  I  wouldn't  ask  him. 
People  is  talkin'  enough,  as  it  is.  As  I  said  to  Titus 
last  night — " 

A  general  giggle  caused  Lena  Klumm  to  break 
off  her  speech,  and  for  the  next  hour  everybody 
worked  hard,  with  only  an  occasional  remark  on  in 
different  topics  to  vary  the  monotony. 

"  Well,  it's  close  on  half-past  five,"  announced 
Nona  at  last.  "  We'll  have  the  men  folks  here  be 
fore  we  know  it." 

The  hope  box  gathering  broke  up,  and  the  vis 
itors  all  hurried  away,  to  primp  for  the  evening, 
while  Nona  and  her  mother  busied  themselves  get 
ting  the  house  ready. 

As  Nona  had  predicted,  the  men  came  early  for 
supper.  A  few  had  had  a  hasty  snack  at  home, 
while  getting  into  their  Sunday  clothes  —  after  the 
usual  sluice  in  the  tin  washbowl  outside  the  kitchen 
door  —  but  the  majority  had  taken  time  only  to  wash, 
change  and  drive  to  the  Haynes'.  A  constant  stream 
of  buggies,  runabouts,  surreys,  buckboards,  demo 
crats  and  big  box  wagons  rolled  up  to  the  front  gate, 
dropped  the  women  and  children,  and  hurried 
around  to  the  church  sheds,  where  the  horses,  still 
in  the  shafts,  were  blanketed  and  tied  in  long  rows. 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          199 

At  the  house  Benny  Zepp  and  several  other  ur 
chins,  including  Gabe  Showell,  Eph  Conklin  and  Van 
Cuddeback,  kept  watchful  eyes  on  the  preparations 
for  supper.  All  were  members  of  the  angel  boy- 
choir  of  the  New  Canaan  Episcopal  Church,  now  an 
established  institution. 

Fluttering  about,  in  white  starched  frocks,  was  a 
bevy  of  girls  ranging  in  age  from  five  to  thirteen 
or  fourteen.  Most  of  them  wore  corkscrew  ring 
lets,  with  a  large  bow  of  ribbon  over  one  ear,  and 
altogether  they  were  too  "  touch-me-not  "  charming 
for  the  boys  to  take  liberties  with  —  at  first.  Later, 
when  the  grown-ups  were  not  looking,  there  came  a 
constant  hubbub  of  girlish  squeals,  mingled  with  boy 
ish  snickerings,  which  told  of  bashful  advances  and 
coy  repulses. 

By  seven  o'clock,  when  everybody  had  arrived, 
the  committee  of  ladies  in  charge  of  supper  was  in 
full  swing. 

To  each  guest  was  handed  a  paper  napkin  and 
plate,  with  knife,  fork  and  spoon.  These  were  fol 
lowed  by  offerings  of  scalloped  potatoes,  cookies, 
sandwiches,  cake,  pie,  jelly,  pickles  and  so  forth, 
immediately  supplemented  by  cu'ps  of  hot  coffee. 
By  some  mysterious  juggling  skill,  acquired  through 
much  practice  at  pass-around  functions,  nobody 


200  DABNEY  TODD 

spilled  anything,  and  everybody  had  a  loose  hand 
when  another  slice  of  cake  or  pie  or  more  sand 
wiches  came  along. 

"Make  long  arms,  ev'ybody!"  exclaimed 
Neevey,  passing  refreshments.  "  The  Lord  helps 
them  that  help  themselves,  an'  them  that's  backward 
about  comin'  forward,  now,  ain't  got  no  call  to  kick, 
later,  if  they  ain't  well  foddered  up." 

Most  of  the  company  was  crowded  together  in 
long  lines  along  the  walls  of  two  large  rooms  that 
had  been  thrown  into  one,  while  stray  individuals, 
couples  or  groups  overflowed  to  the  hall,  the  porch, 
the  kitchen  and  two  bedrooms.  Boys  and  girls  were 
everywhere. 

There  sounded  a  constant  buzz  of  conversation, 
with  laughter  and  good  humor  so  general  that  old 
Mrs.  Cabot,  deaf  as  a  grindstone,  cackled  sympa 
thetically  from  time  to  time,  without  knowing  at  all 
what  had  been  said. 

Dabney  Todd  was  in  high  feather.  He  told 
stories  of  his  boyhood  and  the  pranks  he  and  his 
comrades  used  to  play,  until  Neevey  warned  him  that 
he  was  saying  things  which  might  put  mischief  into 
the  heads  of  some  of  the  young  people  present. 

"  Shucks!  "  he  replied.  "  No  fear.  Boys  nowa 
days  ain't  got  the  sperit  we  had.  An',  of  course," 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          201 

he  added  solemnly,  as  he  noticed  Benny  Zepp  and 
Gabe  Showell  listening  with  lively  interest,  "  it  's  a 
good  thing  they  ain't.  Say,  Neevey,  what's  that 
there  plate  beln'  handed  'round  for?  It  ain't  got 
nothin'  in  it  as  I  see." 

"  It  soon  will  have  something  in  it,"  she  told 
him.  '  You'll  put  in  fifty  cents,  for  your  supper 
and  mine.  You  didn't  think  we  was  gittin'  it  for 
nothin',  did  you?  The  money  goes  to  the  Ladies' 
Aid." 

After  the  collection,  which  took  some  little  time, 
Nona  Haynes  rapped  on  the  table  with  her  knuckles. 

"  Silence,  please !  Mrs.  Clarissa  Howe  will  read 
a  poem." 

"  Gee!  "  whispered  Benny  Zepp  to  Gabe  Showell. 
"  Let's  beat  it.  Where's  the  other  fellers?  " 

A  subdued  scuffling  accompanied  the  retreat  of  the 
young  gentlemen  by  way  of  the  back  door,  while 
the  ladies  of  their  own  age  —  all  very  prim,  with 
hands  in  laps,  and  feet  crossed  —  stared  hard  and 
soulfully  at  Mrs.  Howe. 

The  adult  portion  of  the  company  had  disposed 
itself  to  listen,  most  of  the  men  leaning  angularly 
against  walls  and  door-casings,  while  their  wives  set 
tled  down  in  their  chairs,  handkerchiefs  ready  to  hide 
a  yawn.  They  had  heard  Clarissa  read  before. 


202  DABNEY  TODD 

"H'm!"  coughed  Clarissa.  "This  poem  is 
called  '  The  Journey  of  a  Wandering  Soul.'  It  was 
written  by  a  lady  missionary  to  Thibet,  just  before 
she  left  her  home  in  Salem,  Massachusetts.  I  cut  the 
verses  out  of  a  Boston  paper." 

Clarissa  hemmed  twice  more.  Then,  holding  up 
a  long  newspaper  clipping  which  give  direful  prom 
ise  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen  verses,  she  began,  in  a 
nasal  sing-song: 

"  My  soul,  who  hath,  in  mists  of  thought, 

Tried  happiness  to  gain, 
How  vainly  hath  thou  solace  sought, 

And  surcease  from  thy  pain ! 

Oh  heart,  which  dost  to  higher  spheres, 

Soar  up  on  downy  wing, 
Sad  are  the  memories  which  years 

Of  baffled  yearnings  bring!  " 

The  other  thirteen  verses  were  of  the  same  type, 
and  when  they  had  all  been  reeled  off,  with  almost 
as  much  expression  as  the  grind  of  a  moving  pic 
ture  machine,  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the  drone  woke 
Dabney  with  a  start. 

"Fine!"  he  exclaimed,  mechanically.  "Awful 
good,  Clarissa !  " 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          203 

Clarissa's  hard  face  cracked  into  a  gratified  smile, 
while  Tite  Showell  whispered  in  Dabney's  ear: 

"  Say,  where  the  Sam  Hill  did  she  find  them  there 
verses?  Why,  blame  my  cats;  there  must  h'  been 
nigh  twenty-five  on  'em,  an'  not  a  bit  o'  sense  in  the 
hull  thing." 

"  Shet  up,  Tite !  "  whispered  Dabney.  "  Spence 
Howe  is  a  warden  of  the  church,  an'  I'd  like  to  know 
if  his  wife  can't  speak  a  piece  o'  po'try  for  the  bene 
fit  o'  the  Ladies'  Aid,  without  you  cuttin'  up  about 
it?  I  think  they're  goin'  to  make  you  an'  Lena 
sing  a  duet  next." 

"  Git  out!  "  snickered  Tite.  "  They  ain't  no  sech 
thing.  Lena  an'  me  sometimes  sings  together  when 
we's  alone.  But  we  ain't  no  concert  folks,  no  more'n 
what  you  be!  " 

Lije  Conklin,  very  stiff  in  a  shiny  broadcloth  coat 
that  he  called  a  "  Prince  Albert,"  with  gray  trousers, 
a  celluloid  collar  and  blue  tie,  gave  "  Paul  Revere's 
Ride,"  in  a  foghorn  voice  that  carried  clear  out  to 
the  state  road.  He  was  followed  by  Myrtle  Lewis, 
with  "  Barbara  Frietchie,"  and  then  the  phonograph 
came  into  action. 

The  machine  had  been  borrowed  from  Link  Wat- 
kins,  who  had  acquired  it  from  one  of  his  customers 
who  could  not  pay  his  bill  in  any  other  way.  It 


204  DABNEY  TODD 

was  an  old-timer,  which  wheezed  and  sighed  a  great 
deal,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  tunes  when  it 
gave  forth  brassily,  "  Silver  Threads  Among  the 
Gold,"  "  Grandfather's  Clock,"  and  "  Sweet  Belle 
Mahone." 

The  phonograph  helped  out  two  or  three  times 
during  the  evening.  As  the  company  tired  of  reci 
tations,  Link  turned  on  the  machine  for  another 
breathing  spell. 

When  the  program  was  nearing  an  end,  Link  held 
up  his  hand  for  attention. 

"  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  announced,  "  we 
come  to  the  real  treat  of  the  evenin'.  I  beg  to  say 
that  Miss  Hazel  Devine  will  read  to  you  a  paper  en 
titled  '  The  New  Dawn.'  " 

Link  did  not  seem  to  note  the  lack  of  enthusiasm 
his  announcement  had  made. 

"  Miss  Devine  has,  at  a  great  sacrifice  to  herself, 
spent  several  weeks  writin'  this  paper,  an'  she  asks 
me  to  say  that  she'll  need  your  undivided  attention  — 
an'  no  noise." 

Link  sat  down.  The  announcement  had  been 
quite  an  effort  for  him. 

Hazel  made  her  way  to  the  center  of  the  room, 
and,  after  aweing  the  assemblage  into  silence,  be 
gan: 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          205 

"  We  are  gathered  here  to-night,  in  the  sanctity 
of  our  home,  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  and  it  seems 
to  me  the  occasion  furnishes  a  suitable  moment  for 
us  to  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  newer  life,  to  the  de 
velopment  of  our  realization  that  we  are  One  with 
the  All  and  that  there  is  no  Evil  save  as  we  our 
selves  admit  it.  I  call  upon  you  to  follow  me  to 
the  higher  planes  of  intelligence  and  the  loftier 
regions  of  existence  we  are  destined  to  fill,  as  it 
were,  and  I  shall  attempt  to  lead  you  in  that  di 
rection." 

Hazel's  attempt  was  courageous  and  patient.  On 
and  on,  she  wound  herself  about  the  "  stars  and  or 
bits  of  the  higher  world,"  until,  as  Neevey  said  after 
ward,  she  was  so  high  up  she  was  afraid  to  look  down 
for  fear  of  getting  seasick. 

Gradually  the  audience  thinned.  It  was  very 
warm  in  the  house,  and  many  of  the  men  slipped 
out  onto  the  porch,  or  strolled  about  the  lawn,  talk 
ing  crops,  with  a  side-light  on  politics,  while  the  la 
dies  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  in  the  other 
room  discussed  under  their  breath  the  sickness  in 
and  about  the  village,  Mrs.  Muller's  rheumatism,  the 
whooping-cough  in  the  Morrison  family,  and  how 
the  Pollock  boy  had  been  rushed  off  to  Redburn  to 
be  operated  on  for  appendicitis. 


206  DABNEY  TODD 

The  other  luckless  ones,  Neevey  among  them, 
were  left  marooned  in  an  ocean  of  new  thought. 

Through  it  all  Hazel  went  on  steadily,  until,  at 
half-past  ten,  sheer  exhaustion  brought  the  torture 
to  an  end.  Then  the  company  began  to  think  of 
breaking  up,  and  Blake,  who  had  inveigled  Nance 
into  coming,  requested  her  to  stand  up  and  lead 
them  in  singing  "  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

Meanwhile,  half  a  dozen  boys  could  have  been 
seen  cautiously  stealing  quietly  away  from  the  church 
barns. 

"  Where's  Benny  Zepp  an'  them  other  boys, 
Tite?"  asked  Dabney  Todd,  as  the  song  was  fin 
ished.  "  I  don't  see  your  boy,  Gabe,  neither,  nor 
Van  Cuddeback,  nor  — " 

"  I  dunno,"  replied  Tite.  "  Why,  yes.  There 
they  be !  Hey,  Gabe !  Where  you  been?  " 

"  Nowheres,  dad!"  lied  Gabe,  innocently.  "I 
been  here  most  o'  the  time." 

Benny  Zepp  said  nothing,  but  there  was  a  strange 
look  in  his  and  the  other  boys'  eyes,  as  if  they  had 
some  weighty  secret  among  them. 

A  great  bustle  filled  the  bedrooms  where  the  outer 
garments  and  hats  had  been  left.  The  chirp  of  fare 
wells  mingled  with  the  giggles  of  girls  and  the 
chuckles  of  some  of  the  young  men  who  wanted  to 


THE  HOPE  BOX  SOCIETY          207 

get  in  a  few  words  before  going  over  to  the  church 
barns  for  the  horses. 

Suddenly  a  roar  of  dismay  came  echoing  down  the 
road  from  the  darkness.  Benny  and  his  friends 
slipped  out  of  the  back  door  and  were  swallowed  up 
in  the  gloom,  with  a  celerity  which  might  per 
haps  have  given  rise  to  some  suspicions  that  they 
were  more  or  less  connected  with  the  cause  of  the 
disturbance. 

"  What  in  'nation's  that? "  exclaimed  Dabney. 
"  Somethin'  wrong  over  to  the  barns,  from  the  sound 
of  it" 

"  It  sure  is,"  assented  Lije  Conklin.  "  Ole  Mart 
Doover  is  cussin'  like  sin !  An'  Paul  Cuddeback !  " 

"  An'  Joe  Bunt,  an'  Matthias  Rossiter,  an'  Jim 
Spafford,  an'  Dan  Kelly,"  added  Amos  Todd,  going 
out  to  the  porch  with  his  father.  "  'Most  every 
body  as  was  here  to-night  is  j'inin'  in.  It  must  be 
the  hosses.  I'll  go  over  an'  see,  dad." 

"  So  will  I,"  declared  Dabney.  "  Bring  yer  lan 
tern,  Amos !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BOYS   WILL    BE    BOYS 

THE  horse  barns  belonging  to  the  church  con 
sisted  of  two  long  sheds,  open  at  the  front, 
but  partitioned  into  stalls.     The  stalls  them 
selves  were  deep  enough  for  the  horses  to  draw  their 
vehicles  so   far  in  that  they  would  be  out  of  the 
weather. 

The  twenty  stalls  were  all  occupied,  this  night, 
and  several  teams  were  tied  up  to  the  board  fence 
at  the  end  of  the  sheds.  There  was  no  light  ex 
cept  from  the  flash  of  lanterns  bobbing  about  here 
and  there. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Mart?"  asked  Dabney,  as 
with  Chet,  Amos  and  Lije  Conklin,  he  came  up  to 
the  barns.  "  What's  bitin'  all  you  men?  " 

"  It's  them  cussed  boys !  "  barked  Paul  Cudde- 
back. 

"What  they  done?" 

"  Done?     Wa'al,  if  ever  I  git  a  holt  on  any  of 
208 


BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS  209 

'em,  I'll  fix  'em  so's  they  won't  never  do  it  ag'in," 
snorted  Doover. 

"  I'll  skin  'em  alive !  That's  what  I'll  do !  "  was 
the  mild  threat  of  Matthias  Rossiter. 

"  Oh,  shucks!  That's  all  right!  "  shouted  Dab- 
ney  Todd,  impatiently.  "  But  what  the  blazes  have 
they  done?  What  ye  takin'  the  harness  off  y'r  hoss 
for,  Dan?" 

Dan  Kelly,  red-faced  and  burly,  pushed  his  demo 
crat  back,  after  unhooking  the  tugs  and  unbuckling 
the  holdbacks,  so  that  his  horse  stood  clear.  In  one 
hand  he  held  an  assortment  of  muddled  straps,  with 
a  saddle  that  seemed  to  be  coming  apart. 

Dabney  stepped  closer,  and  threw  the  light  of  his 
lantern  on  the  horse  and  the  things  in  Dan's  hand. 
As  he  shook  his  head  gravely,  he  remarked,  in  a  puz 
zled  tone : 

"  That  there  harness  o'  your'n  don't  seem  to  fit! 
The  headpiece  is  a  sight  too  small  for  that  mare, 
an'  you  ain't  got  her  bitted,  nuther.  No  wonder  the 
rest  of  the  harness  slipped  off.  I  never  see  such  a 
'tarnal  mess  in  all  my  born  days.  What's  the  mat 
ter  with  it  all,  anyhow?  " 

"Matter?"  roared  Dan  Kelly.  "  Hell's  bells! 
Can't  you  see  what's  the  matter?  " 

"  By  guffey !  "  ejaculated  Tite  Showell.     "  It  looks 


210  DABNEY  TODD 

to  me  as  if  some  mischee-vious  folks  has  been  tam- 
perin'  with  the  hosses." 

"Tamperin'?"  shrieked  Kelly  angrily.  "They've 
changed  the  harness  on  every  hoss  in  the  barns  I  It 
ain't  only  mine !  The  wrong  harness  is  on  'em  all ! 
It's  a  mix-up  as  it'll  take  all  night  to  straighten  out. 
That's  what's  wrong.  An'  it's  some  o'  them  damned 
infernal  boys  as  done  it!  " 

Lije  Conklin  peered  about  with  his  lantern,  in 
and  out  of  the  sheds,  and  behind  them. 

"Where  are  the  boys?"  he  demanded.  "They 
was  in  the  house  jest  now." 

"  Yes,  for  about  a  minute,"  said  Dabney.  "  But 
before  that  they  was  away  for  nigh  two  hours.  I 
was  wonderin'  they  wasn't  in  the  house  listenin'  to 
the  phonygraf.  It  must  have  took  'em  all  that  time 
to  make  this  pickle." 

Amos  had  been  poking  about  among  the  horses. 
He  came  up  and  remarked : 

"They've  put  that  saddle  off  Joe  Brunt's  little 
sorrel  on  Tite  Showell's  big  bay  mare.  It's  a  won 
der  the  mare  didn't  kick  the  mischief  out  of  'em. 
She's  a  blamed  ugly  critter  when  she  ain't  handled 
jest  so.  I've  shod  her  often  enough  to  know  that." 

"  She's  been  kickin'  all  right,"  grumbled  Tite,  as 
he  took  the  saddle  off.  "  She's  bruk  the  whiffletree 


BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS  211 

to  flinders,  an'  they's  a  hole  in  the  dash  you  could 
crawl  through.  It  wouldn't  have  s'prised  me  to  find 
the  hull  blame  buggy  smashed  into  junk." 

"  What's  it  all  about,  Tite?" 

It  was  the  languishing  Lena  Klumm  who  asked 
this,  in  a  sympathetic  tone.  "  Your  mare  ain't  hurt, 
is  she?" 

"  Not  so  very  much,  Lena,"  replied  Titus,  trying 
to  make  his  voice  tender.  "  I'll  git  you  home  all 
right." 

"  I  know  you  will,  Titus !  "  she  answered,  softly, 
giving  him  a  smile,  in  the  light  of  the  lantern,  that 
drove  away  his  anger.  "  I  guess  you'll  fix  what 
ever  the  trouble  is.  You  always  can." 

"Mush!"  muttered  Neevey,  below  her  breath. 
Then,  to  her  husband,  in  peremptory  accents: 
"  Will  you  tell  me  an'  the  other  ladies  here  what  all 
this  touse  is  about?  Folks  want  to  git  home  some 
time  to-night." 

"  They're  goin'  to  have  a  fine  time  doin'  it,"  rasped 
Dabney.  "  Them  boys  —  onregenerate  little  Hus- 
sians !  —  has  been  an'  lifted  all  the  harness  off'n  the 
bosses  where  it  belongs,  an'  put  it  on  others,  and 
they  ain't  nobody  goin'  to  git  home  till  daylight,  from 
the  looks  o'  things." 

"  That's  what,"  agreed  Lije  Conklin. 


212  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Why,"  went  on  Dabney,  "  they've  even  separ 
ated  each  harness,  so  that  some  of  it's  on  one  hoss 
an'  some  on  another,  an'  not  ?,  blamed  strap  will  fit 
anywhere !  I  been  used  to  harness  ever  sence  I  was 
knee-high  to  a  cricket,  but  I  swan  to  man  I  never  see 
the  like  o'  this.  It's  the  beatinest  thing  ever  I  laid 
eyes  on !  " 

"  An'  they've  went  an'  took  off  the  buckles  an' 
snappers  from  some  on  'em,  jest  to  be  the  more  ag- 
geravatin',"  growled  Paul  Cuddeback,  as  he  dis 
covered  fresh  troubles.  "  Well,  if  that  boy  of  mine's 
in  this,  you  can  bet  he'll  be  sorry  afore  I  git  through 
with  him." 

"  If  the  boys  did  it  at  all,  your  boy  Van  was  in 
it,"  remarked  Titus.  "  They  was  all  together,  to 
night.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  Van  was  the  leader  in 
all  this." 

"  Oh,  I  dunno !  "  retorted  Paul,  quick  to  defend 
his  boy  from  outside  attack.  "  I  reckon  your  Gabe 
was  jest  as  bad!  " 

Spencer  Howe,  who  had  come  up  a  little  behind 
the  others,  and  had  just  found  his  rig,  interrupted 
the  controversy  by  howling,  frantically : 

"  Say!  Look  a'  this,  will  yer?  Here's  a  pair  o' 
hames  a-straddlin'  my  bay  colt,  right  across  his  neck ! 
Why,  this  colt  won't  be  worth  a  whoop  in  — " 


BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS  213 

"  Spencer !  "  warned  Clarissa  Howe,  in  an  awful 
voice,  stepping  toward  him.  "  What  was  you  goin' 
to  say?  " 

"  When?  "  snapped  Spencer,  defiantly. 

'  Then !  An1  you  a  warden  in  the  church !  Spen 
cer  Washington  Lafayette  Howe,  you  was  goin'  to 
swear !  You  know  you  was !  Don't  deny  it,  Spen 
cer!  It  makes  me  shudder." 

"  You  shouldn't  have  let  him  stand  out  here  in 
the  open  shed,  deacon,"  remonstrated  Dabney.  "  I 
wouldn't  leave  no  val'able  hoss  o'  mine  out  of  a 
locked  stable  all  evenin' —  that  is,  not  one  worth  as 
much  as  your  colt.  It  was  takin'  a  chance.  You  got 
to  admit  that.  Anyway  he  ain't  hurt  none." 

"  Wouldn't  have  been  no  chance  about  it  if  we 
wasn't  pestered  with  the  worst  set  o'  boys  this  side 
o'  Gomorrah,"  rejoined  the  deacon.  "  But  I'm  gol- 
dinged  if  I'm  goin'  to  stand  for  it.  I'll  write  to  the 
distric'  attorney  this  very  night,  an' — " 

"  No,  don't  write  to-night,  Spence,"  broke  in  Dab 
ney,  with  a  dry  smile.  "  Not  to-night." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,"  replied  Dabney,  "  there's  a  true  sayin' 
that  you  should  never  write  a  letter  when  you're  mad, 
glad  or  drunk." 

"  Wa'al,  I  ain't  drunk,"  retorted  Spence,  "  an'  I 


2i4  DABNEY  TODD 

need  to  be  mad  to  git  into  the  letter  jest  what  I 
want  to  say.  Why,  that  colt  — " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Spencer  Howe,"  interposed  Clar 
issa.  "  You  jest  find  the  harness  belongin'  to  you, 
an'  take  me  home.  I  got  to  bake  in  the  mornin.' 
My  sponge  is  all  set,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  have  no  sour 
batch  o'  bread  on  account  o'  your  old  colt.  I'm  goin' 
to  git  up  at  five,  no  matter  what  you  aim  to  do,  an' 
I  reckon  I  have  a  right  to  some  sleep." 

By  this  time  everybody  had  set  to  work  to  sort 
out  the  harness.  It  proved  a  long,  tiresome  task, 
rendered  the  more  difficult  because  there  was  no 
light  save  the  fitful  gleams  from  lanterns  carried 
from  one  rig  to  another.  The  horses  were  restive, 
too.  They  had  been  standing  for  hours  in  the  sheds, 
or  outside;  and  moreover,  had  been  disturbed  by  the 
boys,  when,  with  hurried,  bungling  fingers,  they 
changed  the  harness. 

The  bustle  now,  at  an  hour  when  their  infallible 
horse  sense  told  them  they  should  have  been  com 
fortable  in  their  warm  stables,  added  to  their  ir 
ritation. 

It  was  past  midnight  before  everything  had  been 
adjusted.  Even  then,  some  of  the  pieces  of  har 
ness  had  not  been  found,  and  more  than  one  indig 
nant  owner  was  obliged  to  twist  a  wire  where  there 


BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS  215 

should  have  been  a  buckle,  and  to  substitute  rope 
for  a  leather  strap. 

One  by  one,  however,  the  various  vehicles  drove 
away,  until  only  one  was  left.  This  was  the  demo 
crat  belonging  to  the  Zepp  family.  In  it  were  seated 
Mrs.  Zepp  and  her  daughter,  Lizzie,  while  gruff 
Peter  Zepp  looked  angrily  about  for  his  missing  son, 
Benny. 

"Where  in  tarnation  is  that  dod-ratted  boy?" 
stormed  Peter.  "  I  ain't  seen  him  all  through  this 
fuss." 

"  Of  course  you  ain't,"  said  Dabney  Todd,  with 
a  shrug.  "  He  knowed  better'n  to  show  hisself 
while  we  was  gittin'  things  -straight.  He  an'  the 
others  in  this  have  all  kep'  out  o'  sight,  nat'rally.  I 
reckon  Benny's  went  home." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  that's  right,"  assented  Peter.  "  He 
must  of.  Where  else  could  he  of  hypered  to,  but 
there?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  objected  Mrs.  Zepp,  with  a 
mother's  solicitousness.  "  Benny  couldn't  huck  it  all 
that  way  —  more'n  three  mile  —  'specially  in  the 
dark.  It's  a  lonesome  road,  through  the  woods  part 
of  the  way,  and  Benny  always  was  scarey  about  goin' 
into  places  like  that.  Look  on  the  other  side  of  the 
barns  again,  Peter." 


216  DABNEY  TODD 

"  He  ain't  there,"  declared  Peter,  angrily.  "  I 
been  all  about.  Let  him  walk.  You  allers  make  too 
much  of  a  baby  o'  that  boy,  Marthy.  I'm  goin'  to 
lick  him  good  when  I  do  see  him.  Reckon  he  knows 
that.  So  maybe  he  won't  be  in  no  hurry  to  git  home." 

"  Well,  let's  wait  a  little  while,"  pleaded  the 
mother. 

"  No,  I  ain't  goin'  to  wait  another  minute !  He 
can  huck  it!  " 

With  an  obstinate  shake  of  the  head,  Peter 
climbed  to  the  driver's  seat,  by  the  side  of  his  wife, 
and  shook  the  lines.  Then,  with  a  short  "  Good 
night,  everybody!"  he  drove  down  to  the  road, 
carefully  picking  his  way  by  the  light  of  the  lan 
tern  swinging  under  the  wagon. 

He  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  pre 
paratory  to  climbing  the  long  hill  which  would  take 
him  through  the  woods  referred  to  by  Mrs.  Zepp, 
when  a  shadowy  figure  crept  from  behind  a  tree  and 
ran  to  the  rear  of  the  democrat. 

It  was  Benny  Zepp ! 

With  a  light  spring,  the  boy  vaulted  over  the 
low  tailboard,  and  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon. 
Here  he  snuggled  against  his  sister,  who  occupied 
a  seat  behind  her  father  and  mother. 

"Oh,  Benny!" 


BOYS  WILL  BE  BOYS  217 

The  girl  repressed  a  cry  with  difficulty,  as  she 
placed  a  hand  reassuringly  on  her  brother's  shoul 
der. 

"Hush!  Lizzie!  Don't  say  nothin' !  "  whis 
pered  Ben. 

The  boy  knew  he  could  depend  on  his  sister  to 
help  him  out  of  a  scrape.  By  the  time  the  rig 
turned  into  the  Zepp  farmyard  he  was  fast  asleep. 

When  the  Zepps  had  driven  away,  Dabney  Todd 
and  Neevey  walked  slowly  homeward.  There  was 
silence  between  them  until  they  had  almost  reached 
their  gate.  Both  were  thinking.  Suddenly,  Neevey 
turned  to  her  husband  and  remarked,  softly: 

"  Dabby,  you  was  sayin'  to-night,  when  you  was 
talkin'  about  what  awful  rips  boys  used  to  be  when 
you  were  young,  that  boys  in  these  here  days  don't 
git  into  mischief  like  you  used  to.  You  said  they 
hadn't  got  no  sperit,  an'  that  sperit  was  a  good 
thing.  What  do  you  think  of  our  New  Canaan  boys 
now?" 

For  a  few  moments  Dabney  did  not  reply.  When 
he  did  speak,  it  was  in  a  tone  that  to  Neevey  seemed 
regretful: 

"  Mebbe  I  was  wrong  after  all,  Neevey.  Mebbe 
I  misjedged  and  underestimated  'em,  same  as  all  old 
folks  always  does  young  'uns.  By  the  pink-toed 


218  DABNEY  TODD 

prophet,  they  certainly  put  over  a  good  one,  to 
night!  I  wonder  how  it  was  us  boys  forty-five 
years  ago  never  thought  o'  this  here  changin'  the 
harness  business?  " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   WAY   OF  THE   STRONG 

THE  fortnight  that  Chet  Todd  was  away  from 
New  Canaan,  and  in  the  city,  interviewing 
automobile  manufacturers,  was  a  time  of 
wonderment  and  stimulus  to  him.  Though  this  trip 
was  his  first  taste  of  the  outside  world,  yet,  thanks 
to  his  acquaintance  with  Nance  and  Blake,  the  boy 
was  able  to  get  some  perspective,  not  only  of  him 
self,  but  of  the  village  he  had  left. 

The  men  he  met  were  aggressive,  and  yet  had  an 
ease  of  manner  that  filled  him  with  great  desire  to 
make  himself  as  they  were.  He  thought  of  Nance 
and  the  directness  with  which  these  men  would  have 
ridden  over  the  barriers  that  kept  him  away  from 
her.  His  clothes  too  came  in  for  criticism.  He 
could  see  they  smacked  of  the  country.  They  were 
not  alert,  businesslike-looking  clothes. 

The  prosperity  of  the  men  he  talked  to  im 
pressed  him.  Cross-examining  himself,  he  realized 
their  look  of  prosperity  claimed  his  respect,  even 

219 


220  DABNEY  TODD 

before  their  intrinsic  worth  held  him.  In  that  mo 
ment  one  of  his  father's  oft-repeated  maxims  came 
back  to  him,  that  "  Nothing  succeeds  like  success." 
Chet  knew  now  what  that  meant,  and  the  Chet 
Todd  who  came  back  to  New  Canaan  had  little  of 
the  appearance  of  the  one  who  had  left. 

Snuggling  in  his  pockets  were  the  contracts  he 
had  made.  He  was  now  the  authorized  agent  of 
the  Gideon  Motor  Car  Company  and  two  others 
equally  well-known. 

The  hours  he  had  spent  coming  home  had  found 
him  determined  to  see  Nance  and  do  away  with 
all  the  pretense  that  had"  existed  between  them  since 
the  night  she  had  ridden  away  with  Larry  Shayne. 

It  was  Thursday  evening  when  he  reached  home. 
His  father  was  at  the  shop;  his  mother,  away. 
Throwing  his  bag  into  the  hall,  he  made  off  for 
Nance's  house,  determined  to  act  before  his  de 
cision  could  slip  away. 

The  Pelot  house  was  dark  in  front,  but  Chet 
detected  a  light  from  the  back. 

Without  hesitation  he  strode  to  the  rear  of  the 
house,  and  through  the  unshadowed  window  stared 
into  the  kitchen. 

A  muttered  oath  escaped  him. 

Sitting  at  the  table  were  Joe  Pelot  and  young  Mar- 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  STRONG       221 

tin  Doover.  Joe  was  not  exactly  drunk,  but  his 
loose  jaw,  bleary  eyes  and  trembling  hands  told  that 
he  was  half  seas  over.  He  was  listening,  with  a 
stupid  effort  at  concentration,  to  something  that  Mar 
tin  was  saying  in  low,  earnest  tones.  In  his  gnarled 
hand  he  held  a  sheaf  of  bank-bills. 

'  You  know,  Joe,"  were  the  first  words  of  Doo- 
ver's  that  came  to  Chet's  ears,  "  you  ain't  been 
treated  right." 

"  I  know  it,"  returned  Joe,  in  maudlin  self-pity. 
"  No  one  gives  me  a  square  deal." 

"  Sure !  But  you  got  friends  that's  goin'  to  stand 
by  you.  They  know  you're  havin'  a  hard  time. 
That's  why  they've  sent  me  with  this  money. 
There's  five  hundred  dollars  in  this  wad  an'  it'll 
put  you  right  on  your  feet.  You'll  soon  be  able 
to  pay  it  back." 

"  I  see.     It's  a  loan,  is  it?  " 

"  That's  it.  Look  at  these  bills !  Ain't  they  the 
real  thing?  Eh?" 

Joe  Pelot  reached  out  to  take  the  money,  but 
Doover  drew  back,  with  a  grin. 

"  Hold  on,  Joe.  There's  somethin'  else.  These 
friends  o'  mine  are  goin'  to  help  you,  but,  jest  as  a 
matter  o'  form,  you  can  sign  this  paper.  It  don't 
amount  to  nothin' —  jest  sayin'  you  owe  the  money. 


222  DABNEY  TODD 

Of  course,  if  you  never  could  pay  it,  no  one  could 
make  you.  But  you  can  sign  this,  so  they'll  know  I 
give  you  the  money.  Get  that?  " 

"  Sure  1  "  agreed  Joe,  his  covetous  eyes  on  the 
bills  —  a  sum  larger  than  he  had  possessed  since 
his  young  and  prosperous  days.  "  Where's  the  pa 
per?" 

"Here!" 

There  was  pen  and  ink  on  the  table.  Chet  had 
no  doubt  these  had  been  placed  there,  ready,  by 
Doover.  Mart  put  the  pen  in  the  old  man's  palsied 
fingers. 

Then,  leaning  eagerly  over  the  table,  he  watched 
and  waited  for  the  signature  with  a  fever  of  eager 
ness  which  —  had  old  Joe  been  in  his  right  senses  — 
surely  must  have  convinced  him  arose  from  more 
than  mere  friendship  and  the  desire  to  help  him. 

Joe  scrawled  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  the  paper, 
and  at  the  same  time  Doover  placed  the  money  in 
his  hand. 

Then  something  snapped  in  Chet.  Here  was 
something  that  needed  his  attention ;  something  that 
could  be  handled  in  only  one  way.  This  man  was 
using  old  Joe  to  strike  down  the  girl  he  loved.  Chet 
remembered  other  days  when  Martin  had  spoken 
slightingly  of  Nance,  and  he  knew  the  time  had  come 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  STRONG       223 

to  settle  old  scores  and  prevent  this  new  outrage. 

He  looked  at  his  fists,  half-seen,  there  in  the 
dark,  and  thought  of  the  promise  he  had  made  that 
night  in  the  back  pasture. 

The  time  had  come. 

Silently  he  made  his  way  to  the  door.  Quickly 
swinging  it  open,  he  jumped  into  the  room.  The 
suddenness  of  his  entrance  sent  Martin  reeling  back 
ward. 

But  Joe  looked  at  him  unseeingly.  The  bills 
slipping  through  his  fingers,  he  staggered  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  muttering  to  himself  as  he  dropped 
into  a  chair. 

Martin,  insane  with  rage,  drooling  at  the  mouth, 
glared  at  Chet,  until  the  whites  of  his  eyes  became 
red.  The  boy,  already  in  his  shirtsleeves,  held  him 
at  bay. 

Through  gritting  teeth  he  had  his  say. 

"  Once  before,  Mart  Doover,  you  ran,"  he  cried. 
"  This  time  you  stay." 

He  locked  the  door  and  flung  down  the  key. 

"  Now  give  me  that  paper  1  "  cried  he,  command- 
ingly. 

Instead,  Doover  made  a  jump  for  the  door,  thrust 
ing  the  paper  into  his  coat-pocket. 

Chet  had  overheard  enough  at  home  to  under- 


224  DABNEY  TODD 

stand  Nance  was  being  pressed  to  sell  her  farm. 
He  felt  certain  the  paper  that  the  wretched  Joe 
had  signed  was  in  some  way  connected  with  this 
deal,  and  his  devotion  to  Nance  surged  up  in  his 
bosom  in  a  maelstrom  of  hate  against  those  who 
would  defraud  her. 

As  Doover  reached  the  door,  he  was  twisted  round 
and  flung,  for  the  moment  helpless,  spinning  across 
to  the  opposite  wall. 

He  recovered  himself.  Lowering  his  head  like 
a  charging  bull,  his  coarse  features  working  con 
vulsively,  and  his  big  fists  swinging,  he  came  for 
ward  a  step,  his  red-rimmed  eyes  fixed  on  Chet's 
stony  face. 

"  Give  me  that  paper !  "  repeated  Chet.  "  I'm 
most  certainly  going  to  kill  you  if  you  don't  I  " 

The  only  answer  was  a  foul  curse. 

Chet's  fist,  hardened  by  years  of  toil  at  the  forge, 
and  with  the  urge  of  constantly  used,  toughened  mus 
cles  behind  it,  struck  him  in  the  jaw,  and  again 
hurled  Martin  reeling  back. 

"  Damn  you !  "  spat  Doover.  "  You  started  this, 
an'  by  God  I'm  goin'  to  finish  it !  "  Roaring  with 
hate  and  rage,  he  leaped,  to  "  rush  "  the  boy  and 
annihilate  him. 

Chet  parried  the  attack,  but  could  not  keep  Doo- 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  STRONG        225 

ver  from  getting  a  grip  on  him.  Panting,  tugging, 
round  and  round  the  room  they  swayed. 

Chet  lunged  after  Doover,  to  strike  again.  But 
Martin  sank  to  his  knees,  so  that  the  blow  passed 
over  his  shoulder.  Then,  leaping  up,  he  flung  his 
gorilla-like  arms  around  the  boy  and  lifted  him 
from  his  feet. 

Down  they  went  to  the  floor,  rolling  over  and 
over,  each  struggling  to  get  a  grip  which  would 
down  his  foe,  with  neither  successful. 

Chairs  were  sent  hurtling  across  the  room, 
hampering  the  fighters. 

Chet  availed  himself  of  a  slight  relaxation  of 
Martin's  grip,  as  a  chair  got  in  his  way,  and  gained 
his  feet.  He  rushed  Martin.  For  a  few  moments 
they  waled  in  murderous  blows. 

Blood  was  now  freely  flowing  from  Martin's 
mouth.  There  was  an  ugly  bruise  over  Chet's  right 
eye.  Their  clothes  were  disheveled;  the  sound  of 
their  panting  breaths  filled  the  air. 

They  broke  away  from  each  other,  to  breathe; 
and,  as  they  circled  like  fighting  dogs,  watched  for 
an  opening. 

Martin  rushed.  Playing  his  favorite  trick  again, 
he  stooped  to  avoid  the  right  and  left  swings  Chet 
aimed  at  him.  Then,  with  his  arms  around  the  boy's 


226  DABNEY  TODD 

waist,  he  lifted  him  and  sent  him  flying  over  the 
table. 

As  Chet  reached  the  floor,  hands  first,  he  turned 
a  complete  somersault,  which  landed  him  on  his 
back.  The  table  and  its  contents  lay  scattered  on 
the  floor.  Through  it  all  old  Joe  mumbled  and 
leered  with  maudlin  terror. 

Doover's  innate  brutality  evinced  itself.  He 
sprang  to  stamp  on  Chet's  face.  Before  he  could 
bring  down  his  heavy  boot,  Chet  seized  him  by  the 
ankle,  and  down  went  Doover  on  his  face. 

For  a  moment,  victory  hung  in  the  balance,  for 
both  men  were  helpless.  Then  Chet,  with  a  su 
preme  effort,  turned  his  enemy  over  and  leaped  to 
his  feet,  as  Mart,  too,  scrambled  up. 

Mart,  finding  himself  unable  to  overcome  the 
other  with  bare  hands,  seized  one  of  the  chairs. 
Swinging  it  over  his  head,  he  aimed  a  terrific  blow. 
Chet  ran  in,  stooping.  The  chair  whirled  over  his 
head.  He  sent  his  fist  flying  up  under  the  pro 
truding  jaw  of  his  antagonist. 

The  blow  had  not  been  aimed  scientifically,  but 
it  went  home.  And  behind  it  lay  a  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds  of  clean,  powerful  bone  and  sinew. 
The  impact  of  the  boy's  fist  was  annihilating. 

With  a  shudder,  a  groan,  Martin  collapsed  and 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  STRONG       227 

lay  quite  still.     Quiet  came  back  to  the  little  room. 

The  boy  turned  his  vanquished  enemy  over,  and 
feeling  in  his  pockets,  found  the  receipt  Nance's 
father  had  given  him. 

There  it  was,  as  he  had  feared.  Old  Joe  had 
signed  his  name  to  a  promissory  note  for  five  hun 
dred  dollars,  in  favor  of  Larry  Shayne,  and  had 
given  the  farm  as  security. 

Chet  saw  the  simplicity  of  the  thing.  Either 
Nance's  father  would  have  to  pay  back  the  money, 
a  circumstance  beyond  all  possibility,  or  stand  guilty 
of  obtaining  money  under  false  pretense  —  or  his 
daughter  would  have  to  sell  the  farm  to  settle  the 
claim. 

And  Martin  was  to  have  been  witness  to  the  trans 
action. 

The  smooth  cunning  of  it  drew  forth  an  involun 
tary  sort  of  admiration  for  the  man  who  had  used 
the  poor  fool  at  his  feet  so  well.  And  Chet  won 
dered  if  Shayne  and  he  would  ever  meet  as  he  and 
Martin  had  to-night. 

Slowly,  as  the  moments  dragged  on,  the  boy  made 
up  his  mind.  Then  he  picked  up  the  scattered  bills 
and  put  them  back  in  Martin's  pocket.  After  an 
other  pause,  he  carefully  tore  up  the  note  bit  by  bit 
and  watched  the  scraps  smolder  and  burn  in  the  fire. 


228  DABNEY  TODD 

As  he  watched  the  last  little  piece  twisting  and 
curling  itself  into  a  blackened  nothing,  his  blood 
froze  within  him;  the  pounding  of  his  heart  shook 
his  big  body. 

Some  one  had  stepped  on  to  the  front  porch. 
Then  he  heard  the  front  door  opening. 

He  wanted  to  move,  but  could  not.  Inert  as 
though  gripped  by  a  nightmare,  he  stood  there  mo 
tionless,  hardly  breathing. 

He  gazed  around  the  disordered  room.  The 
chairs  were  piled  up  in  shattered  wreckage,  the  table 
was  overturned,  and  a  wet,  sticky  mess  was  spread 
ing  over  the  floor,  where  the  contents  of  dishes  that 
had  been  on  the  table  had  fallen.  And  in  one  cor 
ner  crouched  old  Joe ! 

Chet's  eyes  took  it  all  in;  then  he  felt  them  drawn 
to  the  dining  room. 

In  the  doorway,  speechless  and  bewildered,  stood 
Nance. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    END   OF   THE   GAME 

IT  was  not  in  Larry  Shaync's  nature  to  quit.  To 
have  expected  that  he  was  through  with  try 
ing  to  win  Nance  and  secure  her  consent  to  sell 
the  farm  would  have  been  folly.  Not  for  any 
money  would  he  have  allowed  himself  to  be  made 
foolish  in  his  father's  eyes.  He  was  now  more  than 
ever  determined  to  succeed  with  the  girl.  The  snubs 
and  humiliations  she  had  made  him  suffer  could 
wait.  Once  he  had  her,  she  should  pay  for  them 
all.  A  double  desire  therefore  now  possessed  him 
—  one  for  the  girl,  herself,  the  other  for  the  ven 
geance  he  meant  to  work  upon  her,  when  she  should 
lie  helpless  in  his  power. 

One  direct  result  of  the  last  stormy  scene  he  had 
had  with  her  had  been  his  determination  to  try  his 
skill  with  her  father.  He  would  have  preferred 
the  other  way,  but  the  girl's  stubbornness  had  told 
him  plainly  he  was  wasting  time. 

229 


230  DABNEY  TODD 

For  several  days  he  had  brooded  over  his  plans 
to  catch  Nance  off  her  guard.  To  a  certainty  he 
could  count  on  her  being  away  from  home  on  regu 
lar  nights  of  the  week,  had  he  been  willing  to  go 
to  old  Joe  himself.  But  he  had  known  he  stood 
outside  the  law  in  what  he  planned  proposing,  and 
so  had  cast  around  for  some  one  else  to  do  his  evil 
work  for  him. 

Larry  had  been  well  enough  informed  of  events 
in  New  Canaan  to  know  that  Chet  Todd  was  away. 
Out  of  bitterness  against  him,  Martin  Doover  had 
suggested  himself  as  equally  hating  the  boy,  and  only 
too  willing  to  square  accounts  for  the  insult  Chet 
had  given  him. 

Larry  Shayne  held  a  peculiar  fascination  for  Mart 
Doover.  Shayne's  clothes,  his  spendthrift  ways  and 
profligateness  appealed  to  Doover  as  wholly  to  be 
desired;  and  Larry  smiled  as  he  recalled  his  good- 
natured  tolerance  of  the  uncouth  Martin.  Now  he 
was  about  to  reap  the  interest  of  his  acquaintance. 

Knowing  Martin  would  come  to  the  Seneca  the 
first  time  he  drove  to  town,  Larry  had  sat  down  to 
await  his  advent.  In  due  time  Martin  had  come, 
and  Larry  had  unfolded  his  plans  to  him,  with  the 
result  which  Chet's  untimely  intervention  has  just 
shown. 


THE  END  OF  THE  GAME          231 

Not  overestimating  Martin's  ability,  Larry  — 
back  in  Redburn,  watching  Nance  —  wondered  if 
young  Mart  had  succeeded  with  Joe.  It  was 
Wednesday  night,  and  Nance  would  not  be  back 
in  New  Canaan  until  nearly  noon  the  following  day. 

Larry  did  not  question  his  accomplice's  final 
success.  The  strategy  of  whisky  over  Joe  Pelot  was 
too  certain  for  doubt.  But  if  anything  had  made 
him  postpone  his  visit,  Larry  saw  how  essential  it 
was  that  Nance  should  not  return  the  following 
morning.  It  was  vital  that  Joe  should  have  a 
chance  to  spend  part  of  his  windfall.  That  once 
accomplished,  Larry  knew  success  was  assured. 

Before  he  closed  his  eyes  that  night,  he  had  hit 
upon  a  plan  that  laid  him  open  to  a  little  risk. 

Early  the  next  morning  a  telephone  message  came 
to  the  modest  little  boarding-house  where  Nance 
spent  the  night  when  in  Redburn,  requesting  the 
good-natured  Mrs.  Weatherly  to  inform  Nance, 
when  she  arose,  that  she  would  be  needed  that  even 
ing  at  the  hotel,  and  to  tell  her  not  to  return  home. 

This  would  not  be  apt  to  excite  any  suspicions  on 
her  part.  Some  evenings  she  played  for  the  per 
formance  at  the  "  Jewfish's "  movie  theater;  and 
some,  at  the  Inn.  Her  usual  plan,  after  having 
spent  a  night  at  Redburn  had  been  to  breakfast 


232  DABNEY  TODD 

and  go  back  home  to  New  Canaan  on  the  morning 
stage,  at  ten.  Larry  knew  she  could  not  make 
the  trip  back  and  forth,  and  be  in  Redburn  again 
in  time  to  go  to  work  at  six  in  the  cabaret  of  the 
hotel. 

He  knew  she  would  not  stay  at  the  movie-theater. 
Vague  whispers  had  of  late  been  circulating  that 
Morris  Rosenblatt  was  in  some  way  connected  with 
a  tentacle  of  the  white-slaving  business  in  Redburn, 
and  to  Nance  the  theater  was  as  a  pest-house.  Also, 
loathing  the  Seneca  as  Larry  knew  she  did,  there 
was  little  likelihood  of  her  coming  before  evening. 
By  that  time  the  afternoon  stage  would  have  left, 
and  she  would  probably  be  unable  to  get  home  at  all, 
that  night. 

He  had  intended  to  be  on  hand  at  about  six,  and, 
when  she  came,  question  her  arrival  and  disarm  her 
with  the  statement  that  some  one  had  played  a 
practical  joke  on  her. 

The  whole  scheme  seemed  fool-proof.  Larry  felt 
almost  positive  it  would  keep  the  girl  away  from 
home  and  at  her  boarding-place  in  Redburn  long 
enough  to  permit  Doover's  machinations  to  go 
through.  He  congratulated  himself  on  the  rare  acu 
men  with  which  he  had  arranged  the  matter. 

Staying  over  for  some  special  event  at  the  hotel 


THE  END  OF  THE  GAME          233 

was  no  strange  experience  to  Nance,  so  she  took  the 
message  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  manner.  Her 
father  was  so  rapidly  getting  able  to  be  about,  that 
she  had  no  misgivings  concerning  him.  Also,  the  ex 
tra  money  was  very  welcome. 

The  day  passed  rapidly  for  her,  and  it  was  a 
few  minutes  of  six  before  she  arrived  at  the  hotel. 

Larry  had  been  nervously  waiting  an  hour  for 
her.  Rather  unexpectedly,  his  father  had  returned 
from  the  races  at  Unionville  earlier  than  had  been 
his  wont,  and  Larry  had  no  intention  of  letting 
Nance's  presence  become  known  to  him,  if  he  could 
prevent  it. 

Several  times  he  glanced  into  the  cafe,  where  his 
father  and  some  cronies,  in  whose  car  he  had  re 
turned,  sat  drinking.  He  wondered  if  they  ever 
would  finish  —  and  then,  with  rage,  he  saw  Nance 
walking  in. 

He  saw  her  speak  to  his  father,  and  watched  him 
eyeing  her  as  she  removed  her  hat  and  coat. 

Suddenly,  Barney  excused  himself  to  his  friends, 
and  started  over  to  Nance.  The  interrogation  on 
his  face  decided  Larry  to  retreat.  He  slipped  out 
into  the  lobby. 

"  What's  the  reason  of  this,  Miss  Pelot?  "  Barney 
inquired. 


234  DABNEY  TODD 

"Reason?"  she  replied,  questioningly.  "Why, 
you  sent  for  me,  didn't  you?  " 

"  What  for?  Do  you  think  I  need  a  piano-player 
to  amuse  a  lot  of  waiters?  There  ain't  enough  do 
ing  around  here  on  a  Thursday  to  pay  for  the  lights. 
When  I  want  you  I'll  let  you  know." 

"  Why,  there  must  be  some  mistake,  Mr.  Shayne. 
Mrs.  Weatherly  gave  me,  a  telephone  message  from 
the  hotel,  asking  me  to  stay  over.  I  would  have 
gone  home  on  the  stage  this  morning,  but  for  that." 

:<  Who  gave  you  a  message?  "  he  thundered.  "  I 
ain't  been  in  the  place  all  day.  If  there's  any  one 
givin'  orders  around  here,  it's  me!  " 

Turning,  he  bawled  out  a  command  for  Otto,  the 
'bus  boy,  to  catch  Miss  Gillen,  the  day  operator,  and 
bring  her  to  him. 

"  I'll  find  out  if  any  one's  tryin'  to  kid  me,"  he 
declared,  angrily. 

In  a  few  seconds  Miss  Gillen  came  in,  and  Barney 
turned  on  her  with  a  snarl : 

"  Say,  miss,  who  telephoned  Weatherly's  board- 
in'-house  this  morning,  and  left  a  message  for  Miss 
Pelot?" 

The  girl  hesitated  before  replying. 

"Oh,  there  was  some  one,  eh?"  he  bullied. 
"Who  was  it?" 


THE  END  OF  THE  GAME          235 

"  Why  —  I  —  don't  want  to  get  any  one  in  trou 
ble,"  she  stammered. 

"  Nix  on  that  stuff!  What's  that  you  got  there? 
Your  call-sheet?  Well,  give  it  to  me  I"  and  he 
grabbed  it  out  of  her  hand.  "  I'll  save  you  the 
trouble  of  tellin'  me.  What's  the  number?  " 

"  Cedar,  two-double-four,"  answered  Nance. 

Barney  ran  his  finger  down  the  sheet.  His  face 
grew  ever  darker,  as  rage  gained  upon  him,  until 
he  seemed  to  wear  an  evil  mask  —  almost  as  vicious 
as  the  coarse,  red,  sensual  face  of  his  satellite,  Jew- 
fish  Rosenblatt,  himself. 

"Yeh,  here  it  is!  House  call,  huh!  Who's 
chargin'  up  house  calls  ?  Who  was  it  ?  Come  on !  " 

That  last  was  a  rifle-shot,  and  the  girl  answered : 

"  Mr.  ...  Shayne,  sir." 

"  Him?  All  right !  You  go  now,  and  —  listen ! 
—  if  you  wanta  work  for  me,  you  speak  up  when 
I  ask  you  somethin'." 

Barney  was  by  now  so  terrified  that  he  shook  as 
with  an  ague. 

"You  sit  down!"  he  ordered  Nance.  "Wait 
here!" 

Sitting  there,  she  could  hear  him  in  the  bar,  shout 
ing  for  Larry.  Soon  he  came  tramping  in,  the  boy 
at  his  heels.  Nance  shuddered  as  he  cursed  his  son. 


236  DABNEY  TODD 

"You  big  hunkie!"  he  bellowed.  UI  wanta 
know  why  in  hell  you  called  this  girl  up  and  wished 
her  on  to  me  for  a  Thursday  night!  " 

Larry,  remembering  other  scenes  with  his  father, 
only  trembled. 

"  Why,  it  was  a  little  joke.  That's  all,  dad  — 
just  a  little  joke,"  he  managed  to  get  out. 

"  Joke !  "  shrieked  the  old  man.  "  Joke  — 
makin'  a  monkey-house  out  o'  my  place?  I  could 
bust  your  head  in  for  this !  "  He  made  a  swing 
at  Larry.  '  You  boob !  I'm  goin'  to  give  her  five 
dollars  an'  send  her  home,  an'  it'll  come  out  o'  you !  " 

He  stripped  a  bill  off  his  roll  and  handed  it  to 
Nance,  who  drew  away. 

"  Go  on,  take  it !  "  he  urged.  "  Get  a  rig  and 
go  home.  .  .  .  and  don't  come  back.  I've  stood 
this  damn  foolishness  long  enough.  You're  the  best 
piano-player  I  ever  had,  and  if  I  had  anythin'  but 
a  half-baked  idiot  for  a  son  you'd  be  all  right." 

He  tucked  the  bill  into  Nance's  hand,  and  as  he 
wheeled,  fetched  Larry  a  cuff  on  the  face  with  his 
open  hand  that  sent  him  stumbling  backward. 

All  the  way  into  the  bar  they  could  hear  him 
cursing,  as  he  made  his  way  there  to  join  his  friends, 
who  had  been  discreet  enough  to  anticipate  the  trou 
ble  in  the  cafe. 


THE  END  OF  THE  GAME          237 

Nance  realized  that  she  was  through.  Her  job 
was  gone.  Barney  had  made  up  her  mind  for  her. 
As  the  meaning  of  his  words  dawned  on  her  mind, 
an  involuntary  sigh  of  relief  escaped  her. 

Larry  read  it  aright. 

"Well,  what're  you  going  to  do  now?"  he 
sneered. 

"  Wash  dishes  and  scrub  floors,  if  I  have  to,"  she 
shot  back  at  him.  "  And  when  I've  scrubbed  floors 
until  my  back  is  broken  and  washed  dishes  until  my 
hands  are  raw,  I'll  think  of  you  and  be  glad  I'm  do 
ing  what  I  am.  No  matter  what  it  is,  at  any  rate 
I  shan't  have  to  come  in  contact  with  you,  or  fight 
the  evil  net  you're  trying  to  throw  over  me !  " 

"  Well,  git !  Go  back  to  your  drunken  bum  of  a 
father,  and  little  I'll  care !  " 

"You—" 

She  paused,  her  hands  clenched,  and  stood  before 
him,  as  determined  as  his  father  had  been. 

"  You  wouldn't  talk  to  a  man  that  way,  you  cur! 
My  father  has  not  been  drunk  in  weeks.  He  is 
crawling  about  the  house,  a  half-invalid,  while  I've 
been  down  here,  working  for  him." 

The  perversity  that  made  Larry  a  weakling  im 
pelled  him  to  be  incautious  now,  that  he  might  see 
her  wince. 


238  DABNEY  TODD 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  heard  the  news,  then,"  he 
bluffed.  *  Your  old  man  was  rip-roaring  drunk  last 
night." 

It  was  a  staggering  blow.  For  a  minute  the  girl 
thought  she  would  faint. 

The  wolf  had  shown  his  fangs.  It  was  plain 
enough  now  why  he  had  planned  to  keep  her  in 
town. 

Murder  was  in  Nance's  mind. 

"  You  .  .  .  you  .  .  ."  But  the  words  were 
strangled  in  her  tears.  Sobbing  and  alone,  she  found 
herself  on  the  sidewalk. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
JOURNEY'S  END 

HOW  she  endured  those  long  miles  in  the 
hack  Nance  did  not  know.     The  intermin 
able  ride  was  an  effort  that  left  her  weak 
and  exhausted.     What  she  expected  to  find  brought 
her  almost  to  the  verge  of  panic.     Her  soul  lay  sick 
within  her  at  realization  that,  after  all,  her  father 
had  not  been  able  to  play  the  part  of  a  man,  but 
had  once  more  fallen  back  into  the  mire  of  his  sod 
den  vice. 

An  aeon  of  time  seemed  to  elapse  before  the  liv 
eryman  dropped  her  at  her  door.  Quickly  she  let 
herself  in,  and  rushed  through  the  house  to  the 
kitchen.  In  the  doorway,  she  stopped  cold,  the  dis 
ordered  room  before  her. 

Her  father  mumbling  in  his  chair  —  a  man  lying 
flat  on  the  floor  —  in  the  center,  Chet  Todd,  huge 
and  primitive,  his  shirt  torn  to  shreds,  and  his  face 
covered  with  blood!  One  eye  was  swollen  shut. 
There  he  stood  staring  at  her  out  of  the  other! 

239 


24o  DABNEY  TODD 

While  they  peered  at  each  other,  in  tense  silence, 
the  man  on  the  floor  slowly  struggled  up.  His  eyes 
went  around  the  room,  bewildered.  Nance  recog 
nized  him, —  Mart  Doover ! 

Then  speech  came  back  to  her.  Pointing  to  Mar 
tin,  she  asked,  a  great  comprehension  in  her  eyes : 

"He  did  this?" 
'  Yes  .  .  ."  answered  Chet. 

He  nodded  his  head  slowly. 

Coming  to  him,  she  took  his  huge  hands  in  hers. 
She  saw  where  the  skin  had  been  rubbed  off  the 
knuckles.  His  face  was  cut,  as  well. 

Had  there  been  any  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  the 
grimness  of  the  battle  which  had  been  fought  there, 
the  heavy  smell  of  sweat  and  blood  on  Chet's  big 
body  must  have  told  her  the  truth. 

The  strength  in  her  Nance  never  had  quite  real 
ized  till  then.  Compellingly,  she  forced  the  boy  into 
a  chair,  then  got  her  father  to  his  room. 

Chet  sat  there,  half  dazed,  watching  Martin  and 
wondering  if  his  punishment  had  been  complete. 

Martin  raised  himself  painfully  on  his  elbow,  his 
face  working  as  he  spoke  to  the  man  there  before 
him. 

"  You  goin'  to  hit  me  ag'in,  if  I  git  up?  "  he  asked. 

Chet  shook  his  head. 


JOURNEY'S  END  241 

"  No.  ...  I  ain't  ever  goin'  to  hit  you  any  more, 
Mart  —  because  you  ain't  goin'  to  be  round  here, 
after  to-night.  You  want  to  get  this,  'cause  if  I 
see  you  again,  you're  goin'  to  jail.  .  .  .  Now,  pick 
up  the  key  and  hike !  .  .  .  Move !  " 

Slowly,  painfully,  he  reached  out  and  took  the 
key.  His  eyes,  red-shot  and  murderous  as  they 
blinked  at  Chet,  spoke  only  too  well  the  vengeance 
Doover  would  have  taken  had  he  dared  or  been 
able.  Lamely  he  dragged  himself  to  the  door. 
When  Nance  returned  to  the  room  he  was  gone. 

Martin  Doover  was  saying  good-by  to  New 
Canaan. 

Carefully  the  girl  bathed  Chet's  bruised  face  and 
swollen  eye. 

"  Oh,  Chet,"  she  whispered,  "  when  I  think  of 
what  you've  saved  us  from  — !  "  Her  voice  broke, 
unsteadily. 

"  There,  there,  there !  "  he  soothed  her.  "  It  was 
only  what  any  man  would  ha'  done.  Don't  you  go 
an'  git  all  worked  up  over  it  1  " 

"  It  was  splendid,  Chet,  glorious,  big!  "  she  kept 
on.  "  The  spirit  of  knight-errantry  isn't  dead,  yet. 
It's  living,  here  and  now,  right  here  in  New  Canaan, 
in  you !  " 

"Sh-h-h-h,  Nance!" 


242  DABNEY  TODD 

She  kept  a  little  silence,  as  she  ministered  to  him; 
then  in  a  calmer  tone,  asked: 

"  You're  all  right,  Chet?     Feeling  better,  now?  " 

Chet  nodded  his  head  affirmatively.  But  there 
came  no  sound  from  his  lips. 

It  had  been  days  since  he  had  seen  her,  and  weeks 
on  end  since  they  had  been  alone  together.  He  was 
afraid  of  himself. 

Gradually  they  righted  the  disordered  room. 
Bending  over  to  replace  the  articles  on  the  old  table, 
the  boy's  heart  came  into  his  mouth  as  he  felt  the 
silken  touch  of  her  hair  on  his  face. 

He  wanted  to  remember  the  things  he  had  planned 
to  say  to  her,  but  they  refused  to  come  back.  In  his 
heart  burned  only  a  savage  desire  to  crush  her  to  him. 

She  was  his  woman;  he  wanted  her. 

When  the  kitchen  was  in  order,  she  questioned 
the  boy  and  drew  from  him,  reluctantly,  his  story 
of  how  he  had  come  to  see  her  and  had  ended  by 
finding  Martin  there  —  and  then  of  the  fight. 

She  knew,  now,  that  she  loved  Chet  Todd. 

Once  there  came  to  her  eyes  even  a  half-wild  de 
termination  to  take  the  boy  in  her  arms,  to  mother 
and  fondle  him. 

A  clock  chimed  eleven,  and  Chet  made  ready  to 
go.  Nance  stopped  him. 


JOURNEY'S  END  243 

"  Not  that  way,  Chet !  There's  something  I  must 
say  before  you  go." 

He  stared  at  her  uncomprehendingly. 

"  You've  never  questioned  me,  Chet,"  she  said, 
"  even  since  the  night  you  saw  me  riding  away  in 
Larry  Shayne's  car.  You  haven't  been  able  to  un 
derstand  why  I've  gone  to  Redburn  two  and  three 
nights  a  week.  Wait!  "  she  warned  him,  as  he  went 
to  speak.  "  You  hated  Larry  Shayne.  And  you 
despised  the  part  of  me  that  found  pleasure  in  his 
company.  Yes,  you  did.  Did  you  expect  we  could 
go  on  meeting  each  other  under  those  conditions, 
and  that  I  wouldn't  realize  it?  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  why  you  pretended  not  to  notice  what  I  was  do 
ing.  Once,  before  to-night,  you  were  willing  to 
fight  for  me.  Why,  then,  didn't  you  try  to  do  some 
thing  about  it?  Did  you  think  I  should  come  to 
you  and  explain  myself?  " 

The  fire  glowed  back  into  Chet's  eyes,  as  he  lis 
tened  to  her  arraignment  of  him. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  have  any  right  to  question  you. 
Good  God,  Nance!  You  don't  think  I  doubted 
you?" 

"  No,  Chet,  I  know  you  didn't !  At  first  I  couldn't 
let  you  know.  You  wouldn't  have  understood. 
Then,  later,  when  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  you  put  your 


244  DABNEY  TODD 

pride  against  mine,  and  left  me  alone.  You  say 
you  didn't  have  the  right  to  question  me  before. 
Well,  after  what  has  happened  to-night,  you  have  1 
I  want  you  to  understand,"  she  went  on.  "  If  I 
have  been  foolish  enough  to  let  my  pride  stand  in 
the  way  before,  that  time  has  passed." 

Though  Chet  protested,  she  told  him,  word  for 
word,  the  conversation  she  had  had  with  Larry 
Shayne  the  day  he  had  seen  her  riding  away  with 
him,  and  all  the  circumstances  that  had  led  up  to 
it. 

Nance  Pelot  was  proving  herself.  There  glowed 
a  deep  gratitude  in  the  boy's  heart  that  she  was 
as  he  had  known  she  would  be. 

In  the  end,  when  she  had  told  him  of  the  pres 
sure  that  had  been  placed  on  her  to  sell  the  farm, 
and  had  given  him  some  inkling  of  what  had  hap 
pened  back  in  Redburn  that  night,  her  voice  was 
shaken  with  emotion. 

"  But  I'll  get  on,  some  way,"  she  said,  defiantly. 
"  I've  just  got  tol  And  we'll  be  friends,  you  and  I. 
I  guess  I  couldn't  live  without  that." 

Chet  started  to  speak. 

"  Please,"  she  entreated,  "  go  now.  It's  late. 
And  please  don't  say  anything  further  to-night.  I 
just  couldn't  bear  it,  now.  But  I'll  be  here  for  you 


JOURNEY'S  END  245 

to  take  me  to  choir  rehearsal,  Friday  evening.  Then 
maybe  we'll  both  have  thought  things  out,  a  little, 
and  know  where  we  stand.  You'll  come  then,  won't 
you,  Chet?" 

The  boy  nodded  silent  affirmation.  A  tense  mo 
ment  passed  between  them,  as  they  stood  gazing  at 
each  other  in  a  silence  more  eloquent  than  any  words, 
before  he  let  go  her  hand. 

Then  he  started  for  the  kitchen  door. 

"  No,  Chet,"  she  murmured.  "  You  came  that 
way  —  the  front  door  now." 

Silently  the  boy  passed  out  into  the  night.  He 
knew  he  would  have  explanations  to  make  himself 
at  home.  But  as  he  walked  slowly  along,  they  were 
far  away. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DABNEY    HITS   THE   TRAIL 

FOR  the  last  three  Sundays,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Blake  had  announced  in  church  that  "  Shout 
ing  Tom  "  Madison,  the  outspoken  evange 
list  who  had  swept  like  a  whirlwind  through  a  dozen 
cities,  leaving  thousands  of  converts  in  his  wake, 
would  preach  in  Redburn  for  six  weeks.  As  the 
opening  day  drew  near  it  divided  public  interest 
with  Chet's  business. 

Like  the  Athenians  of  old,  the  New  Canaanites 
were  always  glad  to  hear  or  tell  any  new  thing. 
The  advent  of  an  evangelist  in  the  neighborhood  was, 
of  a  truth,  more  than  a  nine  days'  wonder  to  these 
simple  folk,  who  never  had  heard  of  Madison's  own 
personal  motto :  "  A  hundred  thousand  sinners,  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars !  " 

Nance's  return  to  active  work  in  the  choir  caused 
some  talk.  Dabney,  quick  to  notice  this,  did  a  great 
deal  to  allay  it  by  circulating  his  opinion  that  she 
must  have  finished  her  work  in  Redburn.  He  also 

246 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         247 

took  good  care  to  let  folks  see  him  walking  home 
with  Nance.  It  was  easier  for  him  to  shape  public 
opinion  than  it  was  to  explain  to  Nance  his  reason 
for  wanting  to  walk  with  her.  To  make  it  seem 
more  natural,  he  negotiated  for  and  bought  two  old 
wagons  from  old  Joe,  that  he  had  no  earthly  use 
for. 

Martin  Doover  had  left  town,  and  Chet's  bat 
tered  face  remained  somewhat  of  a  mystery,  until 
Link  Watkins  expressed  his  opinion  that  Chet  had 
been  thrown  out  of  one  of  the  cars  he  had  been 
trying  to  buy.  This  raised  such  a  good  laugh  that 
the  boy  let  it  pass  for  the  truth. 

Neevey,  however,  was  not  fooled,  and  as  Chet 

would  not  explain,  she  knew  Nance  Pelot  figured 

in  it  some  way. 

Blake  smiled  to  himself  as  he  watched  Nance 

and   Chet   poring   over   the   same   piece   of  music. 

Truly,  it  was  a  strange  world. 

The  following  Sunday  the  great  revival  opened 

in  Redburn.     Blake,  in  answer  to  the  evangelist's 

request  to  have  all  the  churches  of  the  district  closed 

that  day,  had  notified  his  people  during  the  week, 

and  had  again  urged  them  to  go. 

Sunday  dawned  bright  and  clear.     The  service 

was  to  begin  at  two  o'clock;  but  several  hours  be- 


248  DABNEY  TODD 

fore  that,  people  began  to  drive  in  from  the  out 
lying  villages  and  farms,  in  rigs  of  all  patterns,  from 
the  glittering  two-seated  surrey  to  the  humble  demo 
crat.  A  few  automobiles,  their  wheels  and  radiators 
powdered  with  the  dust  of  country  roads,  were  also 
in  evidence. 

New  Canaan  was  well  represented.  Dabney 
Todd,  with  Neevey  and  Amos,  were  early  arrivals. 

"  Guess  you  folks  is  hungry,"  suggested  Neevey, 
when  Dabney  had  tied  up  in  the  hitch-barn.  "  We'll 
have  some  lunch  right  now,  in  the  wagon." 

Without  waiting  for  a  response,  she  produced  a 
bulging  basket,  the  contents  of  which  her  husband 
and  son  put  out  of  sight  with  business-like  celerity. 
Neevey's  appetite  was  working  well,  too. 

"  Sakes  alive  1  There's  Clarissa  Howe  an'  the 
Deacon  jest  drivin'  in,"  she  exclaimed.  "  An' 
there's  Blake,  with  Hazel  Devine.  I  don't  see  Tite 
Showell,  but  I—" 

'  Tite  allers  goes  to  the  other  hitch-barn  in  Water 
Street,"  explained  Dabney.  "  I  seen  him  jest  ahead 
of  us  when  we  come  to  the  foot  o'  the  lake.  Link 
Watkins  was  with  him.  They  druv  into  town  on 
the  west  road.  Tite's  ole  hoss  don't  go  well  on  the 
hard  brick  pavement.  We'al,  ready  to  go?  " 

They  walked  along  the  main  street,  and  soon  came 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         249 

in  sight  of  the  great  wooden  structure  that  had  been 
built  especially  for  the  meetings.  A  crowd  already 
surrounded  it,  among  them  a  number  of  New  Canaan- 
ites.  The  unpainted  front  doors  were  all  closed, 
but  people  were  going  in  and  out  of  those  at  the 
rear,  amid  a  general  air  of  bustling  preparation. 
A  great  event  was  at  hand,  and  all  the  inhabitants 
for  miles  around  were  preparing  for  an  emotional 
excitation  such  as  rarely  offered  itself  in  that  quiet 
community. 

"Who's  them  folks?"  asked  Neevey,  of  Blake, 
who  was  walking  with  them.  "  Choir  singers,  I 
reckon?  " 

"  Some  of  them,"  replied  Blake.  "  But  it  takes 
a  lot  of  men  to  get  the  place  ready  and  to  run 
things  for  the  meetin's.  I  suppose  some  are  ushers. 
Good  mornin',  Titus.  Glad  to  see  you,  Link." 

Titus  and  Link  Watkins  returned  the  greetings, 
and  another  group  from  New  Canaan,  including  Paul 
Cuddeback,  Myrtle  Lewis  and  Nona  Haynes,  passed 
along,  nodding  and  exchanging  a  few  words  with 
Dabney's  party. 

A  general  atmosphere  of  holiday-making  pre 
vailed,  and  everybody  seemed  pleased  to  see  every 
body  else.  The  only  regret  was  that  they  would 
have  to  wait  an  hour  before  the  doors  would  open. 


25o  DABNEY  TODD 

Redburn  people  were  abroad,  as  well  as  those 
from  the  country.  "  Shouting  Tom  "  Madison's 
name  was  known  to  everybody  in  America.  He  had 
gained  the  reputation  of  hitting  straight  from  the 
shoulder,  and  though  he  might  hurt  some  persons, 
he  was  quite  likely  to  bring  those  same  individuals 
into  the  fold.  He  made  converts  by  the  hundred, 
at  every  meeting,  under  the  psychological  stress  of 
mass-stimulus;  and  though,  as  always  happens,  some 
of  them  very  soon  "  backslid,"  still  he  had  built  up 
for  himself  a  tremendous  national  reputation.  So 
the  people  of  Redburn  and  all  the  country  round 
were  determined  by  no  means  to  miss  his  first  serv 
ice,  where  they  might  see  for  themselves  wherein  his 
great  persuasive  power  lay.  Patiently,  they  waited 
standing  outside  the  temple,  or  strolling  about  the 
sunlighted  streets,  until  they  could  get  in. 

When,  at  one  o'clock,  the  large  double  doors  were 
flung  open,  there  was  a  rush.  The  long  line  that 
had  been  clinging  to  the  wooden  walls  for  hours  was 
swallowed  up  in  a  few  minutes.  Then  came  the 
others. 

Neevey  marched  up  one  of  the  sawdust  aisles  to 
a  seat  near  the  front,  with  Dabney  and  Amos  on 
either  side  of  her.  She  saw  that  the  immense  plat 
form,  with  its  seats  for  the  choir  at  the  back,  and 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         251 

its  reading-desk  in  the  center,  was  fairly  well  oc 
cupied  already.  The  choir  were  all  in  their  places. 
Neevey  calculated  there  must  be  more  than  a  hun 
dred. 

"  This  here  smell  of  new  pine  is  mighty  satis- 
fyin',"  remarked  Dabney.  "  I  dunno  anythin' 
cleaner.  Seems  to  me  it  ought  to  help  the  preacher 
to  git  to  the  hearts  o'  folks,  'cause  a  man  as  is 
clean  is  gen'ally  readier  to  listen  to  reason  than 
one  as  ain't." 

Blake  smiled  at  this  whimsical  idea,  but  didn't  con 
tradict  it.  As  for  Neevey,  she  was  too  much  occu 
pied  in  looking  about  her  to  take  any  notice  of  what 
her  husband  had  said. 

There  was  not  much  opportunity  for  further  con 
versation,  just  then.  The  choir  leader  —  a  husky- 
looking  young  man,  with  a  dominating  voice  — 
faced  the  choir,  both  arms  upraised.  Then  he 
brought  them  down  with  a  sweep.  [The  singers 
broke  out  into  a  lusty  chorus  that  rang  among  the 
rafters,  and,  embracing  the  now  large  assemblage, 
compelled  them  to  take  part. in  the  great,  swelling 
harmony. 

The  building  was  nearly  full.  In  a  few  moments 
the  doors  must  be  closed  on  throngs  outside,  waiting 
to  get  in.  No  one  could  help  being  inspired  by  the 


252  DABNEY  TODD 

music,  and  when  the  thousands  of  voices  joined  in, 
the  effect  was  electrical. 

Suddenly  the  music  ceased,  and  a  stockily-built 
middle-aged  man,  with  keen  eyes,  a  humorous  mouth 
and  a  decided  manner,  stepped  to  the  front  of  the 
platform.  It  was  "Shouting  Tom"  Madison!  With 
out  any  prelude  he  said,  in  a  deep,  resonant  voice : 

"  We'll  sing  the  Doxology." 

The  response  was  hearty,  and,  as  the  last  strains 
died  away,  he  offered  a  prayer,  and  then  began  his 
address. 

"  Shouting  Tom  "  did  not  spare  anybody,  and  his 
words  could  rightly  be  described  as  burning.  The 
first  thing  he  said  -gave  the  whole  vast  audience  a 
shock. 

"  It  is  a  wonder  that  God  gives  you  any  chance 
of  heaven,  when  he  looks  over  the  gang  on  this 
earth." 

"Land  sakes,  Dabby!"  murmured  Neevey. 
"  He  looked  straight  at  us  when  he  said  that." 

"  I  don't  think  he  meant  me,"  returned  Dabney, 
in  a  whisper.  "  Who's  sitting  behind  us?  By  jings, 
it's  Spencer  Howe !  Wow !  That  was  pretty  tough 
on  the  deacon." 

It  seemed  as  if  Madison  really  did  mean  Spencer, 
for  his  next  sentence  was: 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         253 

"  There's  a  whole  lot  of  you  deacons  who  don't 
'  deac.'  Wake  up,  you  fellows,  and  dig  for  Christ 
a  little  harder.  You'd  be  better  for  it,  and  so  would 
others  in  the  church. 

"  I  don't  say  all  you  people  who  go  to  church  on 
Sunday  and  put  your  dimes  in  the  collection  plate 
are  hypocrites.  But  I'd  think  more  of  some  of  you 
if  you  didn't  pose  as  Christians  when  your  hearts 
aren't  in  it.  And  also  if,  when  you  can  easily  spare 
a  dollar,  you  wouldn't  spend  it  on  autos  or  travel 
or  worldly  books  or  pleasures,  but  would  give  it  to 
the  work  of  salvation,  instead  of  the  measley  little 
dime  or  quarter  you  drop  in!"  Then  he  added, 
pointing  a  finger  at  the  other  side  of  the  place: 
"  Yes,  I  mean  you  —  and  you  —  and  you !  If  you 
don't  like  what  I  say,  come  out  like  real  men  and 
women,  and  tell  me  you'll  do  better." 

By  this  time  the  speaker  was  warmed  up.  His 
powerful  arms  swung,  as,  with  clenched  fists,  he 
drove  home  his  sentences. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  he  cried,  "  that  you  are 
bound  direct  for  eternal  torment  or  everlasting  hap 
piness.  There  are  some  people  who  think  they  are 
on  the  way  to  hell  when  they  are  so  close  to  heaven 
they  can  almost  hear  the  angels  sing.  And  there 
are  some  so  near  hell  they  can  almost  smell  the 


254  DABNEY  TODD 

sulphur  fumes.  But,  whether  you  are  a  Christian  or 
not,  you  must  all  be  present  on  the  judgment  day." 

Neevey  had  been  looking  at  Link  Watkins,  in  a 
seat  near  the  front,  fumbling  about  in  his  pockets,  as 
if  searching  for  something.  The  keen  eyes  of  Tom 
Madison  detected  a  little  inattention  in  Link's  neigh 
borhood,  caused  by  the  old  man's  maneuvers.  Stop 
ping  short  in  his  sermon,  Madison  pointed  directly 
at  Link  and  demanded: 

"What's  the  matter?  Lost  your  specs?  Look 
about  the  house  when  you  get  home,  and  you'll  find 
them  in  the  family  bible,  where  you  left  them  six 
months  ago,  the  last  time  you  had  it  open.  It's  a 
better  book  than  any  that  preaches  up-to-date  non 
sense  and  all  this  modern  science  heresy;  that  tries 
to  prove  the  damnable  doctrine  of  evolution  and 
make  man  only  a  part  of  the  universe,  instead  of 
its  crowning  achievement  that  all  the  rest  of  infini 
tude  was  created  to  serve  and  bow  before !  Look 
out,  you  dabblers  in  the  sin  of  science !  " 

There  came  a  burst  of  laughter  at  this  apt  ac 
cusation,  for  Link  Watkins  was  well-known  to  have 
leanings  toward  modern  scientific  thought,  and  was 
suspected  of  even  having  gone  so  far  as  to  read  Dar 
win's  "  Origin  of  Species."  Neevey  saw  that  the 
old  store-keeper's  ears  were  flaming. 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         255 

The  evangelist  shouted  on  and  on.  In  rapid  suc 
cession  he  trained  his  shrapnel  shells  on  the  liquor 
question;  and  though  there  was  a  coarse  brutality 
in  his  words,  the  fire  of  the  man  himself  and  his 
mad  enthusiasm  robbed  them  of  their  offensiveness, 
and  left  them  living  things  that  went  straight  to  the 
mark. 

"  God  never  questions  penitents,"  he  thundered. 
"  If  you  were  a  drunkard,  He'll  forgive  you.  He 
doesn't  care  what  you  have  been  or  what  you  have 
done,  if  you  only  stick  to  the  old  doctrines  and  re 
pent." 

Then  denunciations  gave  way  to  pleadings,  and 
he  stretched  forth  his  hands,  as  he  asked,  pite- 
ously: 

"  Won't  you  come  forward  and  take  my  hand,  in 
token  that  you  are  willing  to  be  saved?  Don't  be 
ashamed.  The  Man,  Christ,  was  not  ashamed  of 
you  when  He  gave  His  life  for  you  on  Calvary. 
Who'll  be  the  first?" 

No  one  stirred.  The  spell  of  that  vast  multitude 
held  them. 

"  Don't  be  too  proud  to  walk  up  here  and  say 
you're  sorry.  Don't  let  the  sneers  of  some  God 
forsaken  gang  you  have  been  training  with  hold  you 
back  now.  'Come  to  me!'"  he  apostrophized. 


256  DABNEY  TODD 

And  he  held  his  hands  out  invitingly  to  the  en 
thralled  audience. 

"  Hit  the  trail,  if  you  want  salvation !  And  re 
member  that  if  you  hold  back  because  you  fear  the 
sneers  of  your  friends  in  this  life,  they  will  give 
you  the  horse  laugh  in  hell,  because  you  were  fool 
ish  enough  to  listen  to  them  here  in  Redburn  to 
day.  In  hell,  brethren  —  in  the  real,  material,  blaz 
ing  place  of  eternal  fire  and  brimstone  torments 
without  end  that  an  outraged  God  has  prepared 
for  all  who  insult  Him  by  refusing  to  believe  His 
word!" 

They  were  not  holding  back  now.  [The  aisles 
were  filled  with  terrified  people  eager  to  grasp  the 
evangelist's  hand  and  declare  anew  their  faith  in 
God.  It  seemed  that  there  would  be  no  end  to  the 
struggling,  hysterical  line  that  surged  toward  the 
platform. 

"  Say,  I  can't  stand  this,"  said  Deacon  Howe,  in 
Dabney's  ear.  "  I'm  goin'  up." 

"  That's  what  he'd  oughta  do,"  whispered  Neevey 
to  Dabney.  "  I've  a  good  mind  to  go,  myself." 

"  Shouting  Tom  "  understood  the  dramatic  values. 
He  turned  to  the  choir  director  and  gave  a  signal. 
Instantly  a  Gospel  hymn  to  a  marching  tune  thun 
dered  through  the  great  hall.  The  words  were  fa- 


DABNEY  HITS  THE  TRAIL         257 

miliar,  and  as  the  revivalist  motioned  to  the  audience 
to  join  it,  they  obeyed  with  a  will. 

Dabney,  his  face  glowing  like  a  ruddy  winter  ap 
ple,  turned  to  Amos : 

"  Amos,  I  allers  been  a-sayin'  to  myself  that  some 
day,  when  I  got  a  little  time,  I  was  goin'  to  git  my 
house  in  order,  an'  tell  God  I  was  sorry  for  a  lot 
of  the  pesky  mean  things  I  done  to  other  folks,  an' 
promise  to  do  better.  Now,  my  boy,  if  you're  willin' 
to  walk  up  there  with  your  ole  dad,  I  want  you  to 
come  along." 

As  they  marched  up  the  aisle,  Neevey  Todd,  star 
ing  at  them  from  her  seat,  knew  she  was  the  proud 
est  woman  in  the  world. 

She  watched  them  until  they  were  halfway  to 
ward  the  platform,  when  suddenly  something  fa 
miliar  about  a  figure  limping  his  way  along  the  aisle, 
with  the  aid  of  his  cane,  struck  her. 

So  great  was  Neevey's  surprise  that  she  almost 
lost  sight  of  Dabney  and  Amos  in  her  excitement. 

It  was  old  Joe  Pelot ! 

As  Neevey  watched,  she  saw  a  strong  man  take 
Joe's  arm  in  his;  and,  half  supporting  him,  they 
went  up  the  trail  together. 

That  man  was  Blake. 

Far  back  in  the  upper  gallery,  a  young  girl  watched 


258  DABNEY  TODD 

fascinated,  even  as  Neevey  and  the  boy  beside 
her  watched,  too.  There  were  scalding  tears  in 
the  girl's  eyes  —  but  they  were  tears  of  happiness, 
as  she  wondered  if  this  strange  disciple  of  God  had 
been  sent  to  crown  her  faith  in  her  father  with  suc 
cess.  The  boy  found  his  lips  dry  with  emotion. 
Some  vital  force  that  neither  one  was  conscious  of 
drew  her  hand  into  his.  He,  unmindful  of  all  else, 
pressed  it  tenderly  in  his  strong  grasp. 

Nance  and  Chet,  there  unknown  to  the  others, 
knew  that  the  music  singing  in  their  souls  was 
sweeter  far  than  any  ever  sung  by  mortal  choir. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SODIUM    CHLORIDE 

IT  was  getting  well  along  in  November,   and 
Chet's  business  had  begun  to  drop  off,  as  he 
had    expected    it    would,    during    the    winter 
months.     He  had  sold  a  good  number  of  cars  by 
now,  had  so  enlarged  his  garage  that  he  had  been 
obliged  to  hire  two  men  to  help  him,  and  was  real 
izing  a  fine  profit  from  his  repair-shop. 

The  boy  had  determined  that  early  spring  should 
see  him  prepared  to  make  good  his  promise  to  con 
nect  up  the  nearby  towns  with  a  system  of  automo 
bile  stages. 

Nance  was  no  longer  a  stranger,  and  the  two  of 
them  had  driven  countless  miles  together,  during 
the  late  days  of  Indian  summer.  The  countryside, 
then  at  its  best,  was  a  study  in  golden  browns  and 
rich  yellows,  save  where  the  juniper  bushes  or  wild 
buckthorns  raised  their  blood-red  leaves. 

Several  times  on  these  rides  they  had  met  Cash  — 
still  the  same  cheerful  optimist  as  ever. 

259 


26o  DABNEY  TODD 

Cash  marveled  at  the  change  in  the  boy.  His 
manner  and  speech,  even  his  appearance,  were  al 
tered.  Cash  well  knew  the  girl  at  Chet's  side  was 
feeding  and  keeping  aglow  the  tiny  flame  he  him 
self  had  kindled. 

Last  week,  snow  had  fallen.  Almost  every  day 
brought  its  flurry;  and  the  gray,  overcast  skies  told 
plainly  of  the  approach  of  winter. 

So,  when  three  gentlemen  from  Syracuse  dropped 
off  the  stage  in  New  Canaan  and  asked  to  be  driven 
along  the  lake,  it  surprised  Chet  a  bit.  It  was  not 
the  kind  of  weather  to  send  city  men  touring  coun 
try  roads. 

As  he  brought  out  his  car,  he  scrutinized  the  three 
strangers.  Two  of  them  were  businesslike-looking 
men,  while  the  third,  a  scholarly-appearing  fellow, 
with  a  rather  preoccupied  expression  in  his  tired 
eyes,  smacked  of  the  laboratory  or  classroom. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  reach  the  lake  road  that 
branched  off  to  the  left,  with  only  one  field  between 
it  and  the  water. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  requested  one  of  the  men, 
leaning  forward  to  touch  Chet  on  the  shoulder. 
"  We'll  take  a  look  around  here." 

They  were  driving  past  Nance  Pelot's  farm. 

*'  Rough-looking  place !  "  remarked  the  man  who 


SODIUM  CHLORIDE  261 

had  spoken  first,  as  the  three  got  out  of  the  car. 
"  Doesn't  look  as  if  anything  was  ever  raised  on  it. 
Pretty  view,  though!  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Chet  "  You  can  see  along  the 
lake  for  more  than  ten  miles,  from  here." 

The  boy's  thoughts  were  busy,  as  he  tried  to  de 
termine  what  reason  his  passengers  had  for  getting 
out  of  the  car  here.  He  did  not  believe  the  view 
had  much  to  do  with  it. 

"  Wait  for  us  here,]'  directed  one  of  the  men. 
;'  We  are  going  up  the  hill,  so  we  can  see  the  coun 
try  better." 

They  climbed  over  the  tumble-down  fence  and 
walked  away,  while  Chet  watched  them  curiously. 
Reaching  the  top^  of  the  hill,  they  stood  there  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  disappeared  on  the  other 
side. 

Two  of  the  strangers  were  the  same  men  who 
had  talked  to  Larry  Shayne  in  the  Seneca  Inn, 
months  past.  Both  of  them  deferred  to  the  schol 
arly-looking  man  who  accompanied  them  to-day. 

Once  out  of  Chet's  sight,  they  turned  directly  for 
the  lower  end  of  the  farm,  and  once  there,  gave 
their  attention  to  certain  depressions  in  the  surface, 
filled  with  water  from  marshy  springs. 

"Well,  Van  Praag,  what  do  you  say?"  one  of 


262  DABNEY  TODD 

them  asked  the  little  man,  who,  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  was  cautiously  tasting  and  smelling  the  water 
as  it  bubbled  out  of  the  ground.  "  Do  you  see  any 
indications  that  we've  found  what  we're  looking  for, 
or  are  we  on  a  wild-goose  chase,  after  all?  " 

Van  Praag  stood  up  and  wiped  his  hands  before 
he  replied: 

"  Veil,  vithout  some  laboratory  work,  I  can't  say 
joost  how  heavy  the  solution  is.  But  it's  goot  brine, 
that's  plain.  The  incrustations  seem  to  crystallize 
in  cubes.  If  the  crystals  ver  solid,  it  might  mean 
halite,  but  the  vay  they  crumble  in  the  fingers  is 
proove  they  have  been  deposited  there  recently,  und 
have  been  subjected  to  rapid  evaporation  in  the  air. 

"  Und,  besides,"  he  continued,  "  the  number  of 
springs  in  this  small  area,  all  containing  solution  of 
about  the  same  density,  vould  convince  me  that  the 
springs  have  passed  through  extensive  deposits  of 
Silurian  salt." 

'  You  mean,  Van  Praag,  you  think  we  have  dis 
covered  a  continuation  of  the  Onondaga  series  of 
deposits?  " 

"  I  think  that's  certain,"  the  little  man  said,  pon- 
deringly.  '  The  whole  fault  of  this  land  shows  a 
similarity  to  the  topography  of  the  surface  over  the 
Salina  beds." 


SODIUM  CHLORIDE  263 

Brewster,  the  eldest  of  the  three,  turned  to  his 
partner. 

;'  Why,  Ed,  we've  made  a  ten-strike !  This  prop 
erty  will  be  worth  thousands  to  us.  Once  we  get  a 
railroad  in  here,  we'll  market  it  as  cheaply  as  we  do 
in  Syracuse." 

"  We  told  you  that  right  along,"  Ed  answered  — 
"  Ed  "  being  no  other  than  G.  Edward  Haines,  pres 
ident  of  the  Iroquois  Salt  Company. 

"  But  how  are  we  going  to  get  it?  "  he  continued. 
"  There's  the  rub.  I'm  through  with  that  man 
Shayne.  We  can't  change  our  story  to  the  girl,  or 
she'll  sure  get  suspicious.  I  say,  let's  go  to  her  our 
selves  and  make  her  an  offer  that  will  stagger  her. 
If  that  don't  work,  we'll  talk  leases,  if  we  have  to." 

It  was  more  than  half  an  hour  before  they  re 
turned,  and  then  they  did  not  come  back  the  way 
they  had  gone,  but  along  a  gulley  that  serpentined 
its  way  through  the  hollow  and  finally  emptied  into 
the  lake. 

"  We  are  looking  around  to  buy  a  place,"  volun 
teered  the  man  who  had  done  most  of  the  talking. 
"  This  farm  might  suit  us." 

"  I  don't  think  you  could  get  this  farm,"  replied 
Chet,  shortly. 

"Why  not?" 


264  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Because  it's  not  for  sale.  Everybody  in  New 
Canaan  knows  the  owner  has  lately  refused  to  part 
with  it." 

"  Maybe  she  will  if  the  price  is  high  enough.  We 
are  willing  to  pay  a  reasonable  price  —  more  than 
the  owner  would  be  likely  to  get  from  anybody  else. 
Well,  you  can  drive  us  back  to  the  village." 

As  they  went  back,  Chet  wondered  whether  this 
was  another  move  of  Larry  Shayne's.  That  he 
had  ever  wanted  the  place  for  himself  was  prepos 
terous.  He  had  perhaps  told  these  men  to  look  at 
the  farm,  in  person,  and  had  given  them  to  under 
stand  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  price.  If  they 
offered  enough,  they  would  get  it.  Knowing  Larry 
as  well  as  he  did,  Chet  could  quite  believe  he  would 
assure  them  of  that.  Larry  had  always  been  all 
things  to  all  men,  and  had  never  stinted  himself  on 
promises,  to  gain  his  ends. 

There  was  no  more  conversation  between  the 
strangers  and  Chet.  He  left  them  at  the  New 
Canaan  House  and  returned  to  the  garage. 

"  What's  that  'ar  little  bottle  down  behind  the 
cushion  of  the  back  seat?  "  exclaimed  one  of  his 
helpers.  "  Did  those  men  forgit  it?  " 

"  I  guess  they  did,"  Chet  replied,  as  he  took  the 
bottle.  "  Clean  her  off  good,  Jimmy.  Put  in  a 


SODIUM  CHLORIDE  265 

quart  of  oil,  give  her  some  grease  an'  fill  the  radi 
ator." 

Chet  examined  the  bottle. 

It  was  one  of  Van  Praag's  laboratory  jars,  and 
was  half  full  of  what  looked  like  water.  He  shook 
it  up.  Then  he  pulled  out  the  rubber  cork  and 
smelled  the  contents.  The  pungent  brine  filled  his 
nostrils. 

He  closed  the  little  glass  jar  and  sat  down  to 
think.  Beyond  a  question  the  contents  of  this  jar 
had  come  from  Nance  Pelot's  farm.  What  did  it 
mean? 

For  possibly  five  minutes  Chet  sat  there,  deciding 
where  to  turn.  He  knew  nothing  of  chemistry,  and 
was  reasonably  sure  Blake  could  not  help  him.  Out 
of  the  jumble  of  names  running  through  his  mind, 
he  recalled  that  of  Knute  Knudsen,  over  at  the  big 
beet-sugar  refinery,  near  Unionville.  Knudsen  was 
the  chemist  of  the  plant.  Chet  determined  to  inter 
view  Knudsen  at  once. 

Knudsen  was  glad  to  see  the  boy,  and  smiled  good- 
naturedly  at  his  excitement,  as  he  took  the  container 
into  his  hands  and  opened  it. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  he  asked,  humor 
ously.  "  Out  of  somebody's  salt-pork  barrel?  It's 
salt  —  raw  brine,  with  a  lot  of  nitrates  of  one  kind 


266  DABNEY  TODD 

or  another  in  it.     I  don't  have  to  go  any  further  to 
tell  you  that!  " 

'  You  mean,  Knute,  it's  the  brine  that  commercial 
salt  —  table-salt,  I  mean  —  is  made  from?  " 

"  Exactly.  If  you  want  to  wait  until  I  make  a 
hydrochloric  acid  gas  test,  I'll  show  you  a  slight  pre 
cipitation  even  from  the  little  brine  you've  got." 

This  was  stupendous ! 

Chet  had  heard  enough.  To  Knudsen's  impor 
tunities  as  to  where  he  had  got  it,  Chet  was  deaf. 

Driving  home,  he  was  in  a  quandary. 

It  meant  that  Nance  Pelot  was  rich,  if  the  wells 
were  of  any  capacity. 

No  wonder  Larry  Shayne  had  tried  so  hard  to  get 
the  farm!  Chet  laughed  long  afterward,  when  he 
found  out  that  Shayne  had  been  used  as  a  blind  in 
the  whole  transaction,  and  got  a  peculiar  satisfaction 
out  of  knowing  that  Larry  had  gorged  the  bait  with 
out  question. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

JOE    PELOT   KEEPS    HIS   WORD 

JOE  PELOT'S  conversion  was  a  nine  days'  won 
der.  It  left  him  utterly  prostrate.  For  once 
in  his  life  he  was  face  to  face  with  himself,  and 
the  horror  of  that  night  in  the  kitchen  hung  over  him 
like  a  pall. 

Deep  in  his  mind  was  a  misty  remembrance  of  the 
paper  he  had  signed  and  given  to  Martin  Doover. 
His  poor  brain,  weakened  by  long-continued  drink 
ing,  refused  to  answer  the  query:  "  What  was  writ 
ten  there?  "  Try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  recall 
what  it  had  been.  He  had  only  a  dim  recollection 
of  money  and  a  foreboding  sense  that  Martin  had 
persuaded  him  to  sign  a  receipt  of  some  kind. 

Larry  Shayne's  name,  in  some  way,  clung  to  it. 
Joe  tried  to  find  Martin,  but  his  father  told  him  he 
had  left  home.  He  was  in  despair  and  afraid  to 
mention  the  matter  to  Nance. 

He  brooded  over  it,  until,  at  last,  with  sudden 
resolution,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  down  to  Red- 

267 


268  DABNEY  TODD 

burn  and  see  Larry  Shayne.  Larry  had  that  paper, 
whatever  it  was.  Joe  might  have  some  difficulty  in 
getting  it,  but  he  would  try  for  it,  anyhow.  A  cer 
tain  reviving  spirit  of  manhood,  reawakened  in  him 
now  that  King  Alcohol  had  moved  out  and  reason 
had  moved  in,  strengthened  him  to  a  resolve  that, 
formerly,  would  have  been  an  utter  impossibility  to 
him. 

He  borrowed  a  horse  and  buggy  from  Lije  Conk- 
lin,  telling  Lije  he  wanted  to  go  out  to  the  farm. 
The  weather  was  threatening,  and  Lije  was  not  keen 
about  risking  a  horse  in  it.  But  he  had  worked  for 
old  Joe  a  great  many  years,  and  couldn't  say  No  to 
his  request. 

It  was  noon  when  Joe  left  New  Canaan.  Lije 
never  suspected  that  he  intended  going  to  Redburn. 
Clouds  were  lowering  as  he  drove  away,  and  a  few 
flakes  of  snow  scurried  about  him,  threatening  soon 
to  add  an  inch  or  two  to  the  already  heavy  white 
blankets  that  covered  the  landscape.  A  chill  wind 
whistled  in  his  ears,  as  he  pulled  his  cloth  cap  well 
down,  and  took  the  lines  in  his  mittened  hands. 

"  Coin'  to  be  a  cold  trip,  Joe,"  remarked  Lije. 
"  Good  thing  you  ain't  goin'  fur." 

"  Cold  weather  won't  hurt  me  none,"  was  Joe's 
reply,  as  he  waved  Lije  a  farewell. 


JOE  PELOT  KEEPS  HIS  WORD      269 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  lake  road  it  was  snow 
ing  hard,  and  the  wind  had  increased  in  ferocity. 
He  pushed  on  with  busy  thoughts,  taking  little  heed 
of  the  storm. 

Several  hours  later,  stiffened  with  cold,  and  with 
a  sheathing  of  ice  on  horse,  harness,  and  buggy,  the 
lap-robe  crackling  with  frozen  snow,  Joe  got  down 
at  the  Seneca  Inn  and  went  inside. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  warmth  of  the 
place  thawed  him  out  so  that  he  could  speak  coher 
ently.  Then  he  asked  the  bartender  for  Larry. 

"  Larry's  out  of  town,"  replied  that  individual. 
"  He's  gone  to  Syracuse.  You'd  better  get  a  drink 
under  your  belt,  old-timer.  You're  mighty  nigh  all 
in." 

"  No,  I  got  to  refuse  you,"  replied  Joe.  "  Me 
an'  drink  ain't  speakin'.  You  don't  suppose  he'll  be 
back  to-day,  do  yuh?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  If  this  snow  keeps  up,  he  won't 
get  nowheres.  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  about? 
His  old  man's  here." 

"  Nope,"  Joe  said,  forlornly.  "  Barney  couldn't 
do  nothin'  for  me." 

"  Well,  sit  down  an'  wait  awhile.  The  kid  may 
come  in  on  the  four  o'clock  train.  You  won't  have 
one  on  me,  eh,  Joe?  " 


27o  DABNEY  TODD 

He  had  seen  Joe  Pelot  wearing  his  shoes  out  on 
the  bar  rail  for  so  many  summers  and  winters  that  it 
made  him  laugh  to  see  the  battered  old  wreck  pick 
ing  his  way  into  the  hotel  office,  shaking  his  head 
negatively. 

The  storm  had  filled  the  office  with  a  motley  crew 
of  men  who  made  their  way  to  the  bar  and  back,  at 
intervals,  and  Joe's  decision  began  to  torture  his  soul. 
Lije's  horse  shivered  outside  under  the  robe  Joe  had 
thrown  over  him.  The  clock  seemed  to  stand  still. 
Joe  began  to  wonder  if  he  could  sit  there  another 
hour,  so  close  to  temptation,  and  not  be  overwhelmed 
by  it. 

Through  it  all  the  storm  continued,  the  wind  grow 
ing  higher,  and  the  snow  piling  up  against  doors  and 
windows.  With  dread  the  old  man  listened  to  the 
high  and  rising  note  of  the  storm-gale,  shrieking 
round  the  inn  as  though  all  the  evil  Djinns  of  Victor 
Hugo's  poem  had  been  borne  aloft  on  its  stinging 
breath. 

Several  times  he  hobbled  into  the  bar  and  stood 
there,  sucking  in  the  breath  of  the  place.  It  had  a 
bouquet  for  him,  of  tempting  savor. 

Four  o'clock  came  finally,  and  with  infinite  torture 
the  moments  dragged  on,  until  he  knew  there  was  no 
hope  of  seeing  Larry  Shayne  that  day. 


JOE  PELOT  KEEPS  HIS  WORD      271 

"  Guess  I  got  to  be  gittin'  back,"  he  told  his 
friend  the  bartender.  "  No  use  waitin'  'round 
here  any  longer." 

'  You  ain't  thinkin'  of  drivin'  home  in  this  storm, 
are  you?"  the  bartender  asked  incredulously. 
"  You'll  never  make  it!  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  can't  stay  here  no  longer." 

Joe  Pelot  knew  whereof  he  spoke. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  you  go  out  in  that  blizzard 
without  a  bracer !  Here !  "  .  .  .  and  he  mixed  him 
a  steaming  toddy.  There  was  a  touch  of  humanity 
in  this,  from  the  white-aproned  man,  according  to  his 
lights.  "  Drink  her  down !  " 

"  No,  I'm  on  the  water  wagon,"  insisted  old  Joe. 

But,  somehow,  his  hand  came  up  and  rested  on  the 
bar,  some  little  distance  from  the  glass,  while  the 
fragrant  vapor  curled  into  his  nostrils,  awakening  a 
longing  that  increased  as  the  moments  passed. 

By  this  time  Joe's  fingers  were  touching  the  glass. 
He  could  resist  no  longer.  His  craving  had  over 
come  him. 

Next  moment  he  had  gulped  down  half  of  the  still 
warm  mixture ;  and  then  he  drained  the  glass. 

The  fiery  liquid  burned  its  way  down  his  throat. 

As  the  bartender  watched  him,  he  wondered  if  the 
man  before  him  had  suddenly  gone  mad.  Joe's  eyes 


272  DABNEY  TODD 

were  widening,  until  they  looked  insane,  and  he  stared 
at  the  empty  glass  in  horror. 

With  a  terrible  revulsion  of  feeling  he  had  all  at 
once  realized  that  he  had  been  unable  to  keep  his 
sworn,  pledged  word  of  honor,  even  with  God! 

Slowly  the  fingers  that  held  the  frail  glass  con 
tracted,  until  it  shivered  in  a  hundred  pieces  on  the 
floor.  Spellbound  the  bartender  watched  him  pull 
the  heavy  mitten  over  his  cut  hand;  then,  before  he 
could  prevent,  Joe  Pelot  was  outside  in  his  buggy, 
whipping  his  horse  into  the  storm. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  was  lost  in  the  clutch  of 
the  blizzard.  Now  his  horse  plodded  on  at  a  walk, 
through  the  snowdrifts;  and  again,  in  places  where 
the  wind  had  scoured  the  road  clean,  he  galloped. 

An  hour  later,  they  still  were  going  on.  Joe  me 
chanically  held  to  the  lines,  but  the  horse  plodded 
along,  unguided. 

Unseeingly  he  peered  ahead.  It  began  to  grow 
dark.  Vaguely  he  realized  that  he  was  lost.  Lije's 
horse,  trusting  to  his  equine  intuition,  kept  his  head 
for  many  miles,  but  now  the  storm  was  overcoming 
him. 

Joe  did  not  know  where  he  was.  Nothing  could 
be  seen  but  the  driving  snow,  as  night  closed  in. 

The  warmth  of  the  liquor  had  evaporated,  and  he 


JOE  PELOT  KEEPS  HIS  WORD      273 

had  been  growing  numb  for  some  time.  It  was  not 
an  unpleasant  feeling  —  merely  a  drowsiness  that  in 
clined  him  to  lean  back  under  the  buggy-top  and  doze 
luxuriously. 

The  horse  stumbled  off  the  road  and  into  a  field 
where  the  fence  was  down,  and  went  on  and  on  in 
aimless  patience. 

Joe  gave  way  to  the  increasing  drowsiness;  and 
then  came  sleep. 

Back  in  New  Canaan,  Lije  Conklin  was  worrying 
about  his  horse.  Joe  Pelot  ought  to  have  been  back 
long  ago  if  he  had  only  gone  as  far  as  the  farm. 
Lije  made  up  his  mind  to  go  and  see  Nance. 

He  found  Nance  as  worried  over  her  father's  ab 
sence  as  he  was. 

"  No,  Lije,  he's  not  here.  Why,  I  didn't  even 
know  my  father  had  gone  to  the  farm.  Where  can 
he  be  in  all  this  storm?  " 

The  girl's  face  was  white,  and  her  eyes  became  un 
naturally  large  with  terror.  Her  father  must  have 
met  with  some  accident.  Perhaps  the  horse  had 
stumbled,  and  Joe  had  not  been  able  to  get  him  to 
his  feet.  Perhaps  —  no,  no !  And  yet  —  perhaps  ? 

It  was  night  now.  She  must  get  some  one  to  help 
her  find  him.  She  could  not  ask  Lije. 

Chet !     Yes,  he  would  do  it  —  for  her ! 


274  DABNEY  TODD 

He  asked  her  no  questions.  When  she  had  told 
him  that  she  feared  her  father  was  in  the  storm 
somewhere  on  the  road  to  Redburn,  he  understood 
what  she  meant.  Without  discussion,  with  no  word 
of  blame  for  Joe,  he  bent  his  energies  to  the  task 
at  hand.  Never,  thought  Nance,  had  he  seemed  so 
masterful,  so  essential  to  her  very  existence,  so  much 
a  man! 

It  was  not  long  before  he  had  Diamond,  hitched 
to  a  light  cutter,  at  her  door.  Automobiles  were 
useless  now. 

Tenderly  he  wrapped  her  in  a  heavy  blanket. 
They  did  not  talk.  The  girl's  face  was  half  covered 
with  a  woolen  shawl,  through  which  she  peered  into 
the  gloom,  as  Chet  drove  doggedly  on. 

The  snow  had  stopped,  and  the  night  was  far 
colder  than  the  afternoon  had  been.  Chet  knew  it 
must  be  nearly  zero. 

Suddenly  the  boy  pulled  up,  as  he  stared  into  the 
snowy  waste  on  his  right.  He  had  seen  something 
in  a  fence  corner  that  had  awakened  his  worst 
fears. 

Placing  the  lines  in  Nance's  hand,  he  jumped  out 
of  the  buggy. 

She  saw  him  plowing  his  way  through  the  heavy 
drifts  into  the  field,  making  his  way  to  the  Some- 


JOE  PELOT  KEEPS  HIS  WORD      275 

thing  in  the  corner.     Then  she  heard  him  calling: 

"Joe!     Joe/" 

No  response. 

Nance  was  out  of  the  buggy  herself,  now,  and  was 
stumbling  through  the  snow. 

"Is  he  there,  Chet?" 

"  Yes." 

"Not  hurt?"  she  asked  in  agony.  "He's  all 
right,  isn't  he?  Just  lost  the  road,  and  wait 
ing—" 

"  Yes,  waiting!  "  interrupted  Chet  softly.  "  I'll 
get  another  blanket  to  put  around  him.  Then  I'll 
lead  his  horse  out  of  the  field,  and  we  can  take  him 
home.  Don't  worry." 

Nance  was  already  on  her  way  to  get  the  blanket. 
Tenderly  she  wrapped  it  around  the  insensible  form 
of  her  father,  in  the  buggy.  As  Chet  led  the  horse 
to  the  road,  she  got  in  by  her  father's  side  and  took 
the  lines. 

"  I'll  drive,"  she  said  bravely.  "  Will  you  go 
first?" 

Chet  led  the  way  in  his  sleigh,  and  so  the  two 
rigs  went  back  to  the  village. 

With  the  boy's  help,  she  got  her  father  into  bed 
and  ministered  to  him,  until  he  became  conscious 
enough  to  recognize  her. 


276  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Nance!  "  he  whispered,  so  faintly  that  she  had 
to  bend  low  to  catch  his  words.  "  Nance !  " 

Doc  Rand  was  there  now.  He  steadied  the  girl  as 
she  spoke. 

u  Yes,  father?  "  she  sobbed. 

It  was  another  five  minutes  before  he  could  speak. 
[The  girl  wondered  if  he  could  go  on. 

"I  ...  come  .  .  .  back,"  he  mumbled  faintly, 
"from  .  .  .  Redburn  .  .  ." — the  words  were  com 
ing  hard  —  "  'cause  ...  I  couldn't  keep  my 
word  .  .  ." 

Nance  was  limp  in  Chet's  arms. 

".  .  .  and  I  ...  wanted  to  ...  with  .  .  . 
Him.  .  .  ." 

Doc  Rand  felt  the  body  relax,  and  motioned  Chet 
to  take  the  girl  away. 

Joe  Pelot  had  paid  the  price.  Who  shall  say  that 
he  had  not  won  his  reward? 


CHAPTER  XXV 

NEEVEY    CHANGES    HER   MIND 

JOE  PELOT'S  passing  brought  a  new  tide  in 
Nance's  affairs.  Through  the  years  she  had  be 
lieved  in  her  father,  when  hope  had  all  but  de 
serted  her,  and  he  had  not  failed  her  in  the  end. 
The  determination  and  courage  that  held  forth  so 
defiantly  in  his  daughter  had  come  to  the  surface  in 
him,  at  his  last  hour. 

His  untimely  taking  off  had  made  Nance  almost 
forget  the  news  Chet  had  brought  back  to  her  from 
Unionville.  As  days  passed,  and  Nance  became 
more  reconciled  to  her  father's  death,  the  farm  and 
its  future  came  more  and  more  to  occupy  her  atten 
tion. 

Brewster  had  stayed  on  in  New  Canaan,  and  had 
gone  to  see  her  several  times. 

Through  those  devious  channels  by  which  news 
circulates  and  secrets  leak  out,  New  Canaan  came 
to  understand  his  mission  there.  People  gazed  in 
awe  at  Nance  and  talked  of  the  wealth  she  would 

277 


278  DABNEY  TODD 

have,  some  day.  Village-like,  each  repeating  added 
to  the  amount  she  would  receive,  until  it  grew  to  fabu 
lous  figures.  New  Canaan,  once  suspicious  of  her 
in  poverty,  now  began  to  veer  round  toward  her. 
Her  breaking-off  of  even  the  superficial  friendship 
she  had  seemed  to  show  for  young  Shayne  was  also 
interpreted  greatly  in  her  favor.  Maybe  after  all, 
the  village  thought,  the  girl  had  been  misjudged. 
Here,  as  everywhere  in  the  world,  was  being  demon 
strated  the  truth  of  the  old  adage :  "  Money  talks." 

The  change  of  feeling  toward  Nance  became  every 
day  more  apparent.  The  townsfolk  had  regarded 
her  superficially,  and,  since  they  had  not  understood 
her,  had  decided  against  her;  she  had  had  to  fight 
the  narrow-minded  prejudices  of  a  small  community 
by  sheer  goodness  of  heart  and  blamelessness  of  life. 
Now,  that  she  was  coming  forth  triumphant  from  the 
battle,  her  worth  shone  all  the  more  brilliantly  be 
cause  it  had  been  so  obscured  by  undeserved  sus 
picion. 

The  secrecy  which  had  veiled  her  movements  in 
Redburn  had  been  torn  away,  and  those  who  had 
doubted  her  knew  now  that  the  girl  had  been  work 
ing  to  support  her  father. 

Nance,  for  her  part,  was  too  glad  to  find  them 
at  last  on  pleasant  terms  with  her,  to  go  deeply  into 


279 

the  causes  of  their  former  unfriendliness.  She  had 
seen  something  of  the  world,  and  knew  human  na 
ture.  The  people  of  New  Canaan  were,  on  the 
whole,  not  unlike  those  of  any  other  community. 
They  followed  their  leader,  as  people  did  every 
where. 

For  Neevey,  Dabney's  prophecy  had  come  to  pass, 
and  she  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  about  the 
prejudices  she  had  felt  against  Nance,  now  happily 
shown  to  have  been  unwarranted. 

Neevey,  true  to  her  word  once  Nance  had  proven 
herself,  put  her  pride  behind  her,  and  during  the 
days  of  the  girl's  bereavement  did  all  that  was  in  her 
power  to  comfort  and  console  her.  She  now  found 
so  much  to  admire  in  the  girl,  that  Dabney  slyly  won 
dered  if  whether  Neevey,  seeing  the  battle  going 
strongly  against  her,  had  not  decided  to  change 
fronts,  determined  at  any  cost  to  be  with  the  victors. 
Dabney  knew  he  never  would  forget  the  expression 
on  Neevey's  face  when  he  told  her  of  his  ride  with 
Nance. 

Chet,  from  afar,  looked  upon  his  mother's  friend 
liness  for  the  girl  with  a  happy  heart. 

Neevey  had  just  cleared  away  the  supper-dishes 
one  evening,  when  Nance  entered,  her  cheeks  a-glow- 
ing. 


280  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Todd,"  said  she,  as  Neevey 
pushed  forward  a  chair  for  her.  "  Is  Mr.  Todd 
home?" 

''  What's  happened?  "  asked  Dabney,  kindly,  from 
his  chair  beside  the  fire.  "  Got  four  millionaires 
who  all  want  to  marry  you,  an'  you  dunno  which  one 
to  take  ?  " 

Nance  obligingly  smiled  at  Dabney's  sally,  as  she 
answered: 

"  Not  exactly,  Mr.  Todd.  It's  about  the  farm. 
The  Iroquois  Salt  Company  has  offered  to  lease  it 
for  fifty  thousand  dollars.  That's  a  great  deal  of 
money.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  can  hardly  imagine 
such  a  sum.  Just  think !  Fifty  thousand  dollars ! 
Why,  it  all  seems  like  a  dream,  to  me.  I  just  can't 
make  myself  realize  it's  coming  to  me,  me,  Nance 
Pelot.  I  have  to  keep  pinching  myself  to  make  sure 
I'm  really  and  truly  awake !  " 

Dabney  Todd  drew  a  few  puffs  through  his  corn 
cob,  with  a  serious  face. 

"  Yes,  fifty  thousand  makes  quite  a  wad,  Nance. 
But  you'll  have  to  get  more  for  that  farm.  After 
a  while,  you'll  get  used  to  fifty  thousand,  and  a  mil 
lion  won't  look  such  a  lot  to  you." 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  do,  Mr.  Todd?  I  told  you 
I  wouldn't  do  anything  about  disposing  of  the  farm 


NEEVEY  CHANGES  HER  MIND     281 

without  asking  you.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  con 
vince  them  I  positively  wouldn't  sell  the  place,  and 
now  they've  made  me  this  wonderful  offer." 

"  It's  a  sight  of  money  —  no  denyin1  it.  But 
shucks !  you  ain't  goin'  to  be  needin'  that  all  at  once. 
If  this  here  Irokoy  Salt  Company's  willin'  to  give 
you  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  the  salt  rights,  they've 
went  into  it  far  enough  to  know  they  can  afford  it, 
an'  a  little  to  spare.  You  sign  that  lease,  an'  you 
might  jest  as  well  sell  the  farm.  I  wouldn't,  if  I 
was  you.  There's  lots  of  outs  about  that  plan. 
Far  as  you're  concerned,  you're  through." 

"  You  think  the  farm  is  very  valuable,  don't  you, 
Mr.  Todd?" 

"  Lord  alive,  yes!  Any  land  folks  will  offer  you 
fifty  thousand  dollars  for  is  val'able.  What  you 
want  to  do  is  to  lease  it  on  a  fair  percentage  of 
what  it  perduces.  Make  'em  give  you  a  cooperative 
contract,  that  will  guarantee  you  a  profit  on  every 
ton  they  take  out.  Understand  me,  Nance  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  An'  fix  it  so  you'll  get  a  bonus  of  four  or  five 
thousand  dollars." 

"  Five  thousand  dollars?  " 

"  Cert'nly !  You've  got  to  have  some  ready  cash 
to  go  on,  while  they're  puttin'  in  machinery;  an'  they 


28z  DABNEY  TODD 

won't  touch  it  till  they  get  a  railroad  in  here.  Five 
thousand  dollars  will  carry  you  along  in  New  Canaan 
for  a  little  while." 

"A  little  while?" 

Nance's  voice  trembled.  She  could  not  grasp  the 
immensity  of  the  good  fortune  that  seemed  to  be 
actually  in  her  hands. 

"  There's  another  thing,  Nance,"  Dabney  prof 
fered.  "  Before  you  sign  any  such  contract,  you  let 
me  take  it  down  to  Redburn.  I  don't  want  to  git 
cheated  out  of  the  fun  o'  settin'  in  a  big  game  like 
this." 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  Dabney  went  over  the 
details  of  the  arrangement  he  advised  Nance  to 
make.  As  he  talked,  the  girl  realized  more  than 
ever  how  shrewd  and  far-seeing  was  this  good-hu 
mored,  often  careless-seeming,  elderly  man.  Living 
in  a  small  village,  he  had  maintained  a  steady  and 
broad  outlook  on  life,  supplementing  the  wisdom 
thus  gained  by  much  reading. 

Even  Neevey,  while  professing  to  make  light  of 
her  husband's  business  acumen  and  general  knowl 
edge  of  affairs,  glanced  at  Kim  more  than  once  with 
pride. 

Dabney  knew  it  might  be  some  time  before  Nance 
received  her  money,  and  that  the  surest  way  to  close 


NEEVEY  CHANGES  HER  MIND     283 

the  deal  would  be  to  place  her  beyond  any  pressing 
need. 

As  Nance  rose  to  leave,  he  said: 

"  In  the  meantime,  while  you're  waitin',  I'll  auc 
tion  off  for  you  what  little  stuff  they's  left  around 
your  paw's  shop.  It'll  bring  you  in  enough  to  keep 
you  goin'  a  couple  of  months  or  more,  an'  if  you 
ain't  fixed  up  then,  maybe  I  could  be  induced  to  loan 
you  a  little  money  on  that  farm.  I  ain't  promisin' 
you  nothin',  Nance,  but  if  you  want  to  try  me  an'  see, 
there  won't  be  no  harm  done." 

The  last  was  said  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  the 
gray  eyes. 

Neevey  opened  the  door  for  Nance,  and  closed  it 
again  when  she  found  it  was  snowing. 

"  Can't  let  you  go  out  that  way,  Nance.  Wait 
till  I  git  you  a  wrap." 

When  she  returned  it  was  with  her  favorite  shawl, 
which  she  placed  around  the  girl.  Nance  gazed  at 
it  admiringly. 

"A  real  Paisley  shawl!  I  can't  take  this,  Mrs. 
Todd,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Now  don't  you  try  goin'  ag'in  me,"  Neevey 
retorted.  "  I  can't  have  you  runnin'  around  barkin' 
your  head  off." 

Dabney  pretended  to  be  busy  filling  his  pipe.     But 


284  DABNEY  TODD 

he  did  it  only  so  that  he  could  bend  his  head  to  hide 
his  gratified  smile.  He  knew  now  that  Neevey  had 
taken  Nance  Pelot  to  her  heart.  The  offer  of  the 
Paisley  shawl  had  proved  that,  to  the  uttermost. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DABNEY   TODD,    AUCTIONEER 

SEVERAL  days  later  bills  announcing  a  sale 
by   auction  of  the   tools,   forge,   and  other 
contents  of  Joe  Pelot's  blacksmith  shop,  ap 
peared  in  Link  Watkins'  store  and  were  scattered 
about  the  surrounding  country. 

When  the  day  of  the  sale  arrived,  Nance  pre 
pared  the  sandwiches  and  coffee,  which,  according 
to  custom,  would  be  served  at  noon  free  to  all  who 
came.  To  see  that  nobody  was  overlooked,  Lena 
Klumm  came  early  to  Nance's  home  that  morning, 
and  the  two  had  everything  ready  in  ample  time. 

Dabney  took  charge  at  the  shop,  and  lighted  a 
fire  on  the  forge  himself,  so  that  the  place  should  be 
comfortable.  Benny  Zepp  was  placed  at  the  bel 
lows,  and  admonished  to  blow  up  the  fire  whenever  it 
seemed  to  be  going  down. 

"  It  ought  to  be  easy  for  you,  Benny,"  said  Dab 
ney.  "  You're  used  to  blowin'  the  organ  bellows, 

285 


286  DABNEY  TODD 

down  to  the  church,  an'  this  is  about  the  same  thing. 
When  the  sale's  over,  I'll  give  you  a  quarter." 

Benny  grinned  a  freckled  and  gap-toothed  grin, 
and  announced  himself  well  pleased  with  the  terms, 
even  though  he  was  not  listed  as  "  Assistant  Auc 
tioneer." 

There  were  other  things  to  be  sold  besides  the 
contents  of  the  blacksmith  shop.  Several  persons  in 
and  near  New  Canaan  who  had  odds  and  ends  to 
dispose  of,  not  numerous  or  valuable  enough  to 
warrant  a  separate  auction,  brought  them  here,  to 
be  knocked  down  by  the  auctioneer  at  the  regular 
percentage.  There  was  a  grandfather's  clock,  a 
spinning-wheel,  a  home-made  cradle,  some  chairs, 
a  wheelbarrow,  an  ancient  incubator  and  other 
"  duffle,"  all  piled  up  in  one  corner  of  the  shop. 

By  ten  o'clock,  when  the  sale  was  advertised  to 
begin,  more  than  a  hundred  men,  and  a  few  women, 
had  congregated  in  and  around  the  shop.  Some  of 
the  rigs  of  those  from  out  of  town  were  in  neigh 
boring  barns,  while  others  —  the  horses  well  blan 
keted  —  were  strung  along  the  road. 

Although  the  season  was  early  winter,  with  snow 
everywhere,  it  was  not  very  cold,  and  the  bright  sun 
shine  made  it  a  cheerful  scene. 

Dabney  Todd  got  up  on  a  heavy  box  behind  the 


DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER      287 

anvil,  so  that  he  was  elevated  about  a  foot  above 
the  others.  Amos  was  by  his  side  to  act  as  clerk, 
and  two  or  three  young  men,  volunteers,  brought 
forward  such  small  things  as  could  be  carried  when 
Dabney  asked  for  them. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  began,  "  all  the  contents 
of  this  shop  are  to  be  sold  without  reserve,  and  every 
body  is  free  to  bid." 

"  I  reckon  the  bids  air  about  the  only  things  as 
is  free,  ain't  they,  Dab?  "  grinned  Spencer  Howe. 

"  No,"  flashed  back  Dabney.  "  There'll  be  a  free 
lunch,  an'  you'll  git  a  good  feed  that  some  one  else 
will  pay  for.  That  had  oughta  attract  you!  " 

The  laugh  at  Deacon  Howe's  expense  set  the  pro 
ceedings  off  in  the  good  humor  that  meant  lively 
bidding.  Dabney  knew  that  a  joke  to  start  with  was 
calculated  to  arouse  the  sporting  spirit  that  would 
enable  him  to  get  good  prices. 

"  The  first  thing  to  be  sold,  gentlemen,  is  the 
forge.  Everythin'  goes  with  it  —  fire-box,  water 
tank,  chimbley,  shovels,  pokers,  bellows  —  an'  boy. 
I  won't  let  you  pay  for  the  boy.  He'll  be  throwed 
in.  Blow  up  the  fire,  Benny,  and  let  'em  see  how 
well  the  bellows  work." 

Benny  pumped  away  at  the  bellows,  and  the  fire 
roared  up  the  chimney,  sending  a  comfortable  red 


288  DABNEY  TODD 

glare  over  the  laughing  faces  of  the  men  crowded 
around  the  auctioneer,  all  dominated  by  what  is  prob 
ably  one  of  the  strongest  of  human  emotions  —  the 
hope  of  getting  something  for  nothing. 

"  There  you  are,  gentlemen !  The  fire's  as  clear 
as  a  trout  stream  and  as  steady  at  Tite  Showell's 
corncob  pipe  —  an'  a  dummed  sight  more  useful." 

"  I  dunno  'bout  that,"  grumbled  Titus.  "  You 
don't  know  everything,  Dabney !  " 

"  No.  If  I  did,  I'd  know  why  you  don't  start 
biddin'  on  this  splendid  forge.  Come  on!  It's  got 
to  be  sold.  Who's  goin'  to  start  before  Benny 
Zepp  drops  dead?  Did  I  hear  you  say  fifty  dollars, 
PaulCuddeback?" 

"  No,  you  didn't!  "  growled  Paul.  "  What  do  I 
want  bellerses  for?  " 

'  Your  wife  might  use  'em  to  blow  you  out  o'  bed 
in  the  mornin',  so  that  you'd  do  the  milkin',  'stid  of 
her,"  replied  Dabney. 

"  Five  dollars !  "  bid  Mart  Doover,  the  older. 

"  Rediculous  bids  are  not  considered,"  was 
Dabney's  rebuke.  "  Lemme  hear  a  decent  offer. 
That's  all  I  want." 

"  Ten  dollars !  "  came  from  a  farmer  in  the  back 
ground. 

"  Ten  dollars !     Almost  as  bad  as  five.     But  I'll 


DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER      289 

take  that  bid.  Ten  dollars  —  ten  dollars  —  ten  dol 
—  fifteen  —  fifteen  —  fifteen  dollars  —  fifteen  — 
twenty  —  twenty  —  twenty  —  twenty-two  —  two  — 
two  —  twenty-three  —  three !  " 

Dabney  stopped,  and  picking  up  a  hammer  from 
the  anvil,  waved  it  belligerently. 

"  Blame  me  if  this  ain't  the  worst  crowd  I  ever 
had  dealin's  with!  Why,  this  forge  cost  two  hun 
dred  dollars  when  it  was  new!  " 

'  Yes,  when  it  was  new!  "  sarcastically  from  Tite 
Showell. 

'  Yes,  an'  that's  a  dummed  sight  more  than  you 
was  wuth  when  you  was  new,  Titus,"  replied  Dabney. 
"  No  one  would  have  gave  two  cents  for  you!  " 

This  brought  out  a  howl  of  derisive  laughter,  in 
the  midst  of  which  Dabney  roared : 

"  Twenty-five  I  am  bid.  Who  said  thirty? 
Thirty  it  should  be  —  thirty!  See  it  sell!  See  it 
sell !  Come  on,  somebody !  " 

"Thirty!"  shouted  a  man  from  Redburn,  a 
blacksmith. 

This  bid  was  raised  by  a  rival  blacksmith  from 

' 

Twelve  Corners,  and  at  last  the  forge  was  knocked 
down  for  forty-nine  dollars.  Dabney  admitted  aft 
erward,  to  Nance  Pelot,  that  it  was  more  than  he 
had  expected,  because  the  forge,  like  everything  else 


2po  DABNEY  TODD 

in  the  shop,  had  been  second-hand  when  Joe  had 
bought  it. 

He  had  just  finished  selling  a  few  small  lots  when 
Nance  and  Lena  Klumm,  accompanied  by  Gabe 
Showell  and  Van  Cuddeback,  appeared  in  the  door 
way,  carrying  pails  of  hot  coffee  and  baskets  of 
sandwiches. 

"It's  twelve  o'clock,  gentlemen,"  announced  Dab- 
ney.  "  The  sale  will  begin  again  at  one.  Gabe 
Showell,  put  that  can  of  coffee  ag'in  the  fire  over 
there,  to  keep  warm.  Good  mornin',  Nance !  We 
are  all  glad  to  see  you.  Most  on  us  is  hungry,  too." 

He  went  home  to  get  his  own  dinner,  while  the 
company  fell  upon  the  coffee  and  sandwiches  with  a 
will.  Amid  much  chaffing  and  rough-and-ready  in 
terchange  of  rural  witticisms,  the  lunch  was  con 
sumed  down  to  the  ultimate  crumb  —  for  was  it  not 
gratis?  And  free  lunch,  whether  at  country  auction 
or  in  a  city  bar-room,  is  always  a  center  of  attraction. 

Nance  had  gathered  up  the  baskets  and  pails,  after 
the  meal,  and  was  on  her  way  home  with  Lena 
Klumm,  when  she  met  Dabney  going  back  to  the 
shop. 

"  It  looks  as  if  we'd  git  more'n  two  hundred  dol 
lars  out  of  the  sale,  Nance,"  he  said.  "  I've  got 
only  a  few  more  things  to  sell,  an'  the  folks  will  bid 


DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER      291 

better,  now  they've  had  lunch.  They  allers  do. 
They's  nothin'  more  good-natured  than  a  full  stum- 
mick." 

Pipes  were  going  when  Dabney  mounted  his  box 
and  smiled  at  the  crowd. 

"  That's  right,  men!  Smoke  up!  But  don't  for- 
git  that  this  here  anvil  in  front  o'  me  is  one  o'  the 
old-fashioned  kind,  made  when  men  knew  what  an 
vils  was,  an'  when  they  put  only  the  best  metal 
in  'em.  Why,  this  anvil  knows  its  business  so  well 
you  don't  have  to  think  how  you're  goin'  to  fix  up  a 
shoe  on  it.  Jest  leave  it  to  the  anvil.  It's  a  jim- 
slicker,  I'm  tellin'  ye.  Who's  the  lucky  man  as  is 
goin'  to  git  it?  They's  only  one  of  'em,  remember. 
I  could  sell  twenty  if  I  had  'em.  But  you'll  have  to 
bid  ag'in  each  other  for  this.  .  .  .  What's  that? 
Two  dollars?" 

He  shrieked  the  last  two  words,  with  a  horrified 
expression  on  his  ruddy  face  and  a  flash  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Deacon  Howe,  I  don't  know  how  you  can  look 
me  in  the  face,  as  a  ree-ligious  man,  an'  bid  two  dol 
lars  for  an  anvil  like  this.  Say!  Ain't  you  afeerd 
somethin'  will  happen  to  you?  " 

'  Two  dollars!  "  repeated  Spencer  Howe,  stolidly. 

"Very  well!"  came  from  Dabney,  in  sorrowful 


292  DABNEY  TODD 

accents.  "  Two  dollars  I'm  bid.  I'm  sure  you  men 
won't  allow  such  a  sin  to  be  perpetrated  before  you. 
Besides,  you  all  want  this  splendid  anvil.  Go  on! 
Two  dollars  bid  —  two  dollars  —  two  dollars! 
Cheaper'n  a  broom!  See  it  sell!  I've  a  notion  to 
bid  it  in  myself.  An'  I  would  if  I  didn't  have  all  I 
want.  Three  dollars  —  four  —  four  —  four !  Do 
I  hear  five  —  five  —  five  ?  Four  dollars  is  all  I'm 
gittin' !  But  it's  gotta  be  sold.  Four  dollars  — 
four  —  four!  " 

His  keen  eyes  swept  the  faces  around  him.  Then 
he  brought  the  hammer  down  on  the  anvil  with  a 
savage  ring,  and  shouted: 

"  Sold  for  four  dollars  to  Deacon  Howe ! 
What's  the  next  lot,  Amos?  " 

In  another  half  hour  Dabney  had  cleaned  up  the 
blacksmith  shop,  and  begun  on  the  articles  sent  in 
by  outside  people. 

A  man  with  black  eyes  and  beard,  who  had  come 
from  Redburn,  edged  to  the  front  as  an  old  mahog 
any  table,  every  leg  loose  and  the  drawer  falling 
crazily  out  of  place,  was  held  up  by  Amos.  He  was 
a  furniture  dealer,  a  Hebraic  friend  of  the  shyster 
lawyer,  "  Jewfish  "  Rosenblatt,  who  had  come  out 
to  the  sale  to  look  for  antiques.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  contemptuously  at  the  table,  and  would 


DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER      293 

have  turned  up  his  nose  if  it  had  been  that  kind  of 
nose.  But  he  could  not  prevent  his  sharp  eyes 
gleaming  covetously  as  they  fell  on  the  treasure 
which,  if  he  could  only  get  his  hands  on  it,  would  net 
him  a  fine  profit. 

"  Here's  a  table  —  er  —  in  good  condition,  solid 
mahogany,"  opened  Dabney,  looking  the  table  over 
doubtfully.  "  It's  jest  the  thing  to  have  by  your 
bed  if  you're  sick  an'  it  would  look  well  in  the  settin'- 
room  if  it  was  oiled  up  a  little." 

"  The  legs  is  crooked,"  commented  Paul  Cudde- 
back. 

"  Well,  so's  yours,  Paul.  But  you  ain't  no  worse 
on  that  account,"  retorted  Dabney.  "  These  here 
legs  can  easy  be  fixed.  I  dunno  'bout  your'n.  Jest 
a  pot  o'  glue  for  the  legs  an'  a  couple  wire  nails  for 
the  drawer,  an'  the  table's  as  good  as  new.  What 
will  you  gimme  for  it?  " 

"  Fifty  cents !  "  grunted  Link  Watkins. 

"  Fifty  cents !  "  repeated  Dabney,  stentoriously. 
"  Fifty  cents  for  this  here  table.  Make  it  seventy- 
five!  Do  I  hear  seventy-five?  Ah!  Mr.  Isaacs," 
to  the  man  with  the  black  eyes  and  Yiddish  nose. 
"  You  bid  seventy-five !  Seventy-five  for  the  table. 
Any  more?  " 

There  was  silence,  and  a  gratified  grin  crept  over 


294  DABNEY  TODD 

the  seamed  face  of  the  bidder,  as  he  fumbled  in  his 
pocket  for  the  seventy-five  cents,  when  another  voice 
arose : 

"One  dollar!" 

Isaacs  turned  swiftly.  He  recognized  the  voice  as 
that  of  a  rival  dealer,  who  knew  antiques  as  well  as 
himself. 

"  Two  dollars!  "  bawled  Isaacs. 
"Three!" 
"Four!" 
"Five!" 
"Ten!" 

Dabney  Todd  was  delighted,  although  he  tried  to 
hide  his  satisfaction  by  shouting  sternly : 

"  This  table  is  wuth  two  hundred  dollars,  if  it's 
wuth  a  cent.  They's  people  in  New  York  would 
give  a  thousand  dollars  for  sech  a  rare  antique  as  this. 
An'  I'm  bid  only  ten  dollars !  " 

It  was  finally  knocked  down  to  Isaacs'  rival  for 
twenty-one  dollars,  and  Dabney,  with  a  hopeful  smile, 
ordered  Amos  to  get  somebody  to  help  him  bring  out 
"  that  there  val'able  grandfather's  clock." 

But  the  clock  was  only  an  imitation  antique,  and 
Isaacs  bid  it  in  for  what  Dabney  protested  was  less 
than  the  pendulum  was  worth. 

The  other  things  went  at  fair  prices,  according  to 


DABNEY  TODD,  AUCTIONEER      295 

Dabney's  estimate,  until  he  came  to  the  last  lot  —  a 
huddle  of  old  books  in  a  clothes-basket. 

"  Now,  here's  some  books !  "  announced  Dabney, 
picking  up  one  of  the  volumes,  which  proved  to  be  an 
old  annual  report  of  the  State  Board  of  Health. 
"  They're  all  good  books.  I  dunno  jest  what  they're 
all  about,  but  they're  mighty  fine  readin'  for  winter 
nights.  They's  twenty  or  more,  and  they  must  weigh 
all  of  fifteen  pounds.  What  am  I  bid  for  these  here 
books?  They  all  gotta  be  sold,  an'  they  all  go 
together  in  one  lot.  Who  wants  these  here  books? 
Fifteen  or  sixteen  pounds  of  'em,  an'  some  on  'em  has 
picters  all  through." 

"  Twenty-five  cents !  "  squeaked  Tite  Showell. 

"  Seventy-five!  "  bid  Lije  Conklin. 

a  One  dollar !  "  said  Hazel  Devine,  who  had  just 
arrived,  after  school.  "  But  I  should  like  to  know 
what  they  are.  Are  they  works  one  could  take 
into  the  home  ?  In  purchasing  literature,  one  should 
always  be  careful  to  acquire  only  that  which  is  in 
structive  to  the  intellect  and  uplifting  to  the  spirit." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that,  Hazel,  'cause  I  don't  know," 
replied  Dabney.  "  But  some  on  'em  is  gilt-edged, 
an'  I  think  there's  po'try  in  one  or  two." 

There  was  no  more  bidding,  and  the  books  became 
the  property  of  Hazel  Devine  for  a  dollar. 


296  DABNEY  TODD 

"  One  buys  such  trash  at  these  auctions,  you  know 
really,"  she  remarked  to  Nona  Haynes.  "  At  all 
events,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  purchase  them,  in  the  sa 
cred  name  of  literature." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   DOUBLE   CROSS 

A  GREAT  drama  was  being  enacted  in  Nance 
Pelot's  little  home  that  afternoon.  Like  the 
third  act  of  a  gripping  play,  the  stage  was  set 
for  a  powerful  climax. 

Brewster  was  there,  ready  to  sign  a  contract  with 
Nance  that  guaranteed  all  Dabney  had  demanded 
for  her.  At  last  the  girl  was  face  to  face  with  actual 
wealth,  and  her  manner  showed  the  tension  she  was 
under.  After  a  life  of  grinding  poverty,  worry  and 
trouble,  of  labor,  scrimping  and  petty  calculations, 
the  sudden  turn  of  fortune  now  at  hand  all  but 
stunned  her. 

Dabney,  glowing  with  pride  for  his  part  in  the  busi 
ness,  and  very  proud  of  the  girl  by  his  side,  saw  her 
at  last  sailing  into  quiet  waters. 

Brewster  and  Nance  listened  very  gravely  as  he 
read  the  agreement  over. 

Then,  as  he  finished,  and  arose  to  call  Neevey  to 

witness  the  signing  of  it,  came  an  interruption,  as 

297 


298  DABNEY  TODD 

melodramatic  as  the  entrance  of  the  villain  in  a  play. 
It  could  not  have  been  more  inopportune. 

Dabney  slid  back  into  his  seat,  stunned,  his  eyes 
staring,  at  sight  of  Larry  Shayne  striding  toward 
him. 

"  Well!  "  cried  he.     "  What  do  you  want?  " 

The  excitement  shining  in  Shayne's  face  told  that 
he  must  have  hurried;  and  the  relief  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
saw  the  contract  lying  before  Brewster,  still  unsigned, 
was  only  too  obvious. 

For  weeks  past  he  had  been  brooding  over  the 
fiasco  Martin  had  made  of  his  plans. 

Larry  had  been  close  to  murder  the  day  Martin 
had  come  back  to  him,  with  his  furtive,  bloodshot  eyes 
and  battered  face. 

The  money  was  gone  and  they  had  nothing  to  show 
for  it. 

Mart  had  made  up  his  mind  that  Larry  should 
never  see  it  again. 

Five  hundred  dollars  was  a  gigantic  sum  for  him, 
and  he  knew  that  it  would  take  him  far  from  Red- 
burn  and  New  Canaan.  Right  then,  distance  was  an 
absorbing  topic  in  Mart's  mind.  He  was  ready  to 
kill,  if  necessary,  to  keep  that  money,  and  his  clumsy 
brain  had  struggled  for  hours  before  it  had  hit  upon 
a  story  that  would  disarm  Larry  Shayne. 


THE  DOUBLE  CROSS  299 

This  determined  on,  he  had  trusted  to  his  natural 
stubbornness  to  stick  to  it,  and  all  that  Larry  had 
been  able  to  get  out  of  him  was  that  Joe  had  taken 
the  money  and  signed  the  note.  Then,  so  he  assever 
ated,  before  he  had  been  able  to  get  away,  Chet  Todd 
had  rushed  in  upon  him.  Afraid  to  be  caught  with 
the  evidence,  and  with  a  long  term  in  jail  staring  him 
in  the  face,  Doover  declared  he  had  thrown  the  note 
into  the  fire. 

His  appearance  and  the  graphic  way  he  had  de 
scribed  the  fight  had  made  his  story  ring  true  —  and 
what  little  cunning  Martin  possessed  had  led  him  to 
dwell  upon  Nance,  standing  there  in  the  doorway,  as 
he  had  picked  himself  up. 

Once  out  of  any  great  danger  from  Larry's  ven 
geance  for  having  bungled  the  scheme,  Doover  had 
dropped  out  of  sight  and  had  left  town  while  the 
leaving  was  good.  The  baffled  anger  of  Larry 
Shayne  had  constantly  increased  as  the  weeks  had 
passed,  and  he  had  turned  over  in  his  mind  scheme 
after  scheme  to  get  some  return  for  his  money. 

Joe  Pelot's  death  had  gone  a  long  way  toward  giv 
ing  him  some  definite  mode  of  attack.  Time  enough 
had  passed  for  Chet  and  Nance  to  have  acted,  if 
they  had  had  anything  on  him,  and  now  Joe's  death 
had  left  him  free  to  do  as  he  pleased. 


300  DABNEY  TODD 

He  wondered  what  was  to  prevent  him  from  pro 
ducing  a  note  with  Joe's  signature  scrawled  across 
it.  The  manner  of  obtaining  the  original  need  not 
be  brought  in  now,  and  who  was  there  to  question,  if 
it  were. 

Sitting  in  his  room,  night  after  night,  he  copied  the 
name  "  Joseph  Pelot  "  from  an  old  I  O  U  given  for 
drinks  over  the  bar. 

His  indecision  would  never  have  carried  him  any 
where  had  not  the  news  that  Nance  Pelot  was  going 
to  receive  her  money  that  afternoon,  come  to  him 
fresh  on  the  heels  of  another  bitter  tilt  with  his 
father. 

In  a  fit  of  anger  he  took  the  plunge,  and,  getting 
into  his  car,  burned  up  the  miles  between  Redburn 
and  New  Canaan,  wondering  if  he  could  get  there  in 
time  to  block  the  deal. 

He  knew  Brewster  well  enough  to  understand  that 
he  would  not  close  the  business  with  a  claim  of  any 
kind  hanging  over  the  farm,  which  might  mean  years 
of  litigation  afterward.  If  the  money  had  been 
turned  over  to  Nance,  and  the  contract  consummated, 
it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  her  to  return  his  five 
hundred.  But  he  wanted  more  than  that.  To  hurt 
Nance,  and  square  his  account  with  Chet  Todd,  were 
the  principal  motives  that  now  led  him  on. 


THE  DOUBLE  CROSS 

The  amazement  his  advent  caused  was  a  sop  to  his 
vanity. 

He  nodded  knowingly  to  Brewster. 

"  Got  here  just  in  time,  I  guess,"  he  said,  ex 
citedly.  "  I  reckon  when  I  get  through  with  my  lit 
tle  speech,  you  won't  be  half  so  keen  about  signing 
your  name  to  that  bit  of  paper." 

"  Where  do  you  come  in  on  this?  "  Brewster  asked, 
defiantly. 

"  That's  what  we  all  would  like  to  know,  Mr. 
Brewster,"  said  Nance. 

"  This  creature  has  been  hounding  me,  about  my 
farm,  for  almost  a  year.  And  now  he  has  the  ef 
frontery  to  come  here !  " 

"  You  want  to  go  easy  with  your  names,"  Shayne 
blurted  out.  "  I've  got  a  little  document  that's  go 
ing  to  surprise  you." 

And  he  held  the  forged  note  up  to  view. 

"  Here,  Brewster !  You  know  a  bona  fide  note 
when  you  see  it.  Listen  to  this !  " 

And  he  read  it  aloud. 

"  It's  dated,  too  —  September  twentieth,"  he 
pointed.  "  And  it's  legally  witnessed.  Now  before 
this  farm  is  sold,  I  want  my  money.  The  note's 
overdue,  and  if  I  can't  get  the  money,  I'm  going  to 
sit  down  on  this  lease  until  I  get  a  look  in.  Now, 


302  DABNEY  TODD 

what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  "     And  with  an 
ugly  grin  he  peered  at  Nance. 

Dabney  and  Brewster  turned, to  her  inquiringly. 

"  Why,  my  father  never  had  five  hundred  dol 
lars!  "  cried  she.  "  There  hasn't  been  a  single  time 
in  the  last  two  years  when  he's  had  that  amount  of 
money.  It  would  have  been  a  fortune,  for  him.  If 
he'd  had  it,  I  most  certainly  would  have  known  about 
it,  and  he  never  said  a  single  word  to  me,  in  the  mat 
ter." 

Happiness  had  seemed  so  near;  and  now  this  man, 
who  had  done  so  much  to  make  her  miserable,  was 
snatching  it  out  of  her  very  hands !  Her  good  for 
tune  had  been  too  great.  She  knew  she  should  not 
have  counted  on  it  so  certainly.  Its  loss  would  now 
be  more  than  she  could  bear. 

She  turned  to  Dabney;  but  that  sage  philosopher, 
for  once,  was  silent. 

'  You  know  your  father's  signature  when  you  see 
it.  Does  this  look  like  it?  "  cried  Shayne,  triumph 
antly. 

He  thrust  the  note  before  her  eyes.  All  Nance 
could  do  was  to  answer :  "  Yes." 

'  Why,  Brewster,"  Shayne  continued,  "  I  loaned 
Joe  Pelot  this  money,  because  I  liked  his  girl,  and  be 
cause  I  wanted  to  stay  close  to  this  farm  for  you.  I 


THE  DOUBLE  CROSS  303 

ain't  forgetting  that  you  kidded  me  into  believing 
you  wanted  it  for  a  country  club.  Country  club, 
hell !  But  you  got  to  see  me,  now." 

Brewster  turned  despairingly  to  Nance. 

"  I  guess  he's  right,  Miss  Pelot.  I  don't  feel  like 
going  ahead,  with  the  likelihood  of  a  lot  of  litigation 
staring  us  in  the  face." 

"  You  mean,"  she  cried,  "  that  you  are  going  to 
take  back  your  offer?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  —  at  least,  until  this  note 
is  taken  care  of.  I  don't  want  you  to  feel  badly 
about  this  man's  statement  that  we  tried  to  buy  the 
farm  in  as  a  site  for  a  country  club.  That's  busi 
ness." 

Nance  saw  her  world  falling  in  on  her.  Were 
there  no  such  things  as  honesty  and  truth  and 
righteousness  in  it? 

Chet  had  been  engaged  to  drive  Brewster  over  to 
Redburn,  as  soon  as  the  business  relative  to  the  farm 
had  been  put  through;  and  now  he  arrived  in  his  big 
gest  car.  When  Larry  Shayne  saw  him  coming,  it 
was  the  happiest  moment  of  his  life.  At  last  they 
two  were  going  to  be  face  to  face.  Larry  wanted 
to  see  him  help  the  girl  now,  if  he  could. 

Chet  realized  in  a  glance  that  something  had  gone 
wrong.  Nance's  pale  and  worried  look,  Dabney's 


3o4  DABNEY  TODD 

glumness,  and  the  presence  of  Larry  Shayne,  all  spoke 
eloquently  of  trouble. 

Cock-sure  as  Shayne  was,  he  weakened  under  the 
glint  in  Chet's  eyes.  For,  though  Chet  addressed 
himself  to  all  of  them,  it  was  at  Larry  Shayne  he 
stared. 

Quickly  Nance  told  him  Shayne's  mission,  clinging 
to  the  arm  that  tightened  like  steel  springs  as  she 
went  on. 

Dabney  saw  the  red  creeping  into  Chet's  eyes,  and 
made  as  though  to  hold  him  in  check. 

"For  my  sake,  Chet!"  Nance  begged.  "Not 
here  !  He  isn't  worth  it !  " 

In  spite  of  them,  Chet,  because  of  his  great 
strength,  put  them  aside  and  confronted  Shayne. 

"  Let's  see  that  note !  "  he  demanded. 

Shayne  held  back.  He  was  not  going  to  risk  hav 
ing  it  in  any  one's  hands  but  his  own. 

'  These  people  have  seen  it,"  he  retorted. 
"  Nance  admits  it's  her  father's  signature.  You 
can't  bully  me  into  passing  it  over  for  your  inspec 
tion." 

"  I  give  you  fair  warning  you'd  better  let  me  see 
it,"  came  the  menacing  answer. 

Shayne  felt  Chet's  hand  on  his  arm;  his  tortured 
flesh  cringed  under  the  grip  of  those  mighty  fingers. 


THE  DOUBLE  CROSS  305 

Slowly  they  closed,  until  the  pain  made  Larry 
wince. 

"  I  won't  ask  you  again,"  Chet  growled.  Larry 
knew  the  bones  of  his  arm  were  breaking.  Then, 
and  not  until  then,  did  he  reach  for  the  note. 

Once  Chet  had  it,  he  carefully  folded  it  away  in 
his  wallet  with  rage-distorted  face.  Shayne  watched 
him. 

"  Now,  you  hound,  listen  to  me !  " 

Chet's  voice  was  that  of  a  man  not  to  be  trifled 
with. 

"  You've  overplayed  the  game  for  once.  When 
thieves  fall  out,  some  one  gets  burned,  and  you're  in 
for  the  singeing  of  your  life.  I'm  going  to  put  that 
note  in  a  safe  deposit  box,  and  laugh  at  you  every 
time  I  see  you.  You  get  me,  I  guess?  " 

Larry  grimaced  with  rage  and  hate,  but  found  no 
answer. 

Then  Chet  spoke  to  them  all. 

"  Folks,"  said  he,  "  I'm  going  to  tell  you  some 
thing  that's  caused  my  mother  a  lot  of  worry,  and  if 
it  gets  out  it  will  make  Link  Watkins  hate  himself." 

Carefully  he  recounted  the  events  of  that  night  in 
Nance's  kitchen. 

"  And  when  it  was  all  over,"  he  concluded,  "  I 
took  the  paper  I'd  seen  Joe  signing,  out  of  Mart's 


3o6  DABNEY  TODD 

pocket.  It  was  a  twin  to  the  one  you  saw  just  now. 
Nance  had  troubles  enough  of  her  own,  and  I  didn't 
want  her  to  know.  I  must  have  stood  there  ten  min 
utes  before  I  decided  what  to  do.  Then  I  stuffed 
the  bills  back  in  Martin's  clothes,  and,  while  he  still 
lay  on  the  floor,  I  tore  up  that  note  piece  by  piece, 
and  dropped  the  pieces  in  the  fire." 

Larry  Shayne's  white-livered  face  burned  crimson. 
A  half-wit  like  Mart  Doover  had  beaten  him  at  his 
own  game !  The  thought  was  gall  and  wormwood 
to  his  nature  which,  easily  tolerating  any  form  of 
corruption,  could  not  for  one  instant  bear  defeat. 

"  Am  I  telling  the  truth,  Nance,  as  far  as  you 
know?"  Chet  asked.  She  confirmed  him. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brewster,"  cried  Chet,  passionately, 
"  this  man's  got  no  more  claim  on  that  farm  than  I 
have!" 

''  This  is  forgery!  "  Brewster  ejaculated.  "  He's 
liable,  under  the  law,  for  a  ten-year  sentence.  Do 
you  realize  that?  "  Brewster  was  mad  all  the  way 
through.  "  We  can't  let  him  leave  here  without  an 
officer.  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  or  what  he  is.  He's 
broken  the  law,  and  has  got  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Say,  Mr.  Brewster,"  put  in  Chet,  "  you  let  me 
take  the  law  into  my  own  hands,  this  once.  He's 
muzzled  himself  better  than  I  could  have  done,  if  I'd 


THE  DOUBLE  CROSS  307 

tried  all  my  life.  In  about  two  minutes  he's  going  to 
be  beating  it  back  to  Redburn  and  the  old  he-wolf 
who  begot  him.  They  ain't  a  bite  left  in  his  whole 
system." 

Chet  had  his  way,  and  Larry  Shayne  passed  out. 
New  Canaan  had  become  too  warm  for  him. 

Chet  being  present,  there  was  no  need  of  calling 
his  mother,  and  the  contracts  were  quickly  signed. 

"  Better  hurry  up,  Mr.  Brewster,"  Chet  laughed, 
as  Nance  smiled  through  misty  eyes.  "  We  haven't 
got  much  time,  and  there's  a  long,  cold  road  ahead  of 
us.  Come  on!  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SANCTUARY 

SEVERAL  days  after  Larry  Shayne  had  said 
his  farewell  to  New  Canaan,  Blake,  watching 
Nance  and  Chet  walking  home  from  church, 
felt  a  great  vacancy  in  his  own  heart  because  he  had 
been  denied  the  happiness  he  knew  was  so  surely  in 
store  for  them. 

Nance  Pelot  was  rich  now,  but  there  was  little  dan 
ger  it  would  make  any  great  difference  in  her.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Blake  remembered  the  day,  so  long  past, 
when  he  had  sat  in  her  cozy  little  parlor  and  won 
dered  what  life  would  bring  her.  The  world  was  un 
folding  now,  and  the  silent  man  watching  her  was 
strangely  happy  in  her  good  fortune. 

It  was  a  time  of  fulfillment  for  Nance  and  Chet. 
The  evening  before,  Chet  had  come  upon  her  staad- 
ing  alone  before  the  fire.  Words  had  grown  need 
less  now.  Silently  Chet  had  taken  her  in  his  arms, 
crushed  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  willing  lips,  even  as 

308 


TOGETHER  THEY  SAT  DOWN,  HAND  IN  HAND  BEFORE  THE 
FIREPLACE,  WATCHING  THE  SPTTTERING  FLAME.  SYMBOL  <  >F 
THE  HOME-LIFE  AND  THE  RACE-LIFE  FROM  ALL  THE  ACES 
PAST  AND  TO  ALL  THE  AGES  STILL  TO  COME. 


SANCTUARY  309 

she  had  dreamed  he  would.  It  was  the  beginning  of 
the  world  for  them.  And  Nance  found  it  almost  im 
possible  to  open  her  eyes,  so  wonderful  was  the  land 
of  enchantment  spread  out  before  her. 

And  he  —  big,  loving  boy  that  he  was  —  caressed 
her  hair  and  eyes,  and  felt  her  warm  young  body 
close  to  his. 

Together  they  sat  down,  hand  in  hand,  before  the 
fireplace,  watching  the  sputtering  flame,  symbol  of  the 
home-life  and  the  race-life  from  all  the  ages  past  and 
to  all  the  ages  still  to  come. 

Presently  she  spoke  to  him,  her  voice  strangely 
tremulous. 

"  Chet!  "  she  whispered,  "  you'll  always  love  me, 
won't  you?  Always?  Always?" 

Chet's  strong  arm,  round  her,  and  his  cheek 
against  hers,  gave  her  all  the  answer  she  needed. 
Not  eloquent  in  words  was  Chet;  his  was  the  larger 
eloquence  of  deeds. 

"  We've  got  the  long  straight  road  ahead  of  us, 
dear,  and  we'll  be  home  soon;  but  not  here!  "  said 
Nance,  at  last.  "  I  want  to  start  all  over  again 
somewhere.  There  would  be  too  many  memories  in 
this  little  place  and  that  would  not  be  our  memories. 
Where  it  will  be  doesn't  matter,  but  we'll  make  it  a 
little  home  of  real  happiness,  won't  we,  Chet?  " 


3io  DABNEY  TODD 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  and  we'll  build  our  own  lit 
tle  home.  When  the  snow  goes  I'll  take  you  up  on 
Storm  King,  where  I  used  to  lie  in  the  grass  and 
dream  of  you.  You  can  see  the  smoke  curlin'  out  of 
the  chimneys  from  there,  and  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  you  can  see  it  long  after  it's  said  good-night  to 
folks  down  here.  There's  birds  and  wild  flowers, 
too.  Somehow  everythin'  seems  glad  to  be  alive  up 
there!" 

And  so  it  was  decided,  and  early  spring  found  the 
little  home  taking  shape.  The  robins  and  bluebirds 
watched,  with  startled  eyes,  the  strangers  who  had 
come  to  their  abode. 

By  this  time  Brewster  was  already  making  prog 
ress  at  the  farm,  and  gangs  of  men  were  breaking 
ground  for  the  railroad  that  now  came  curling  up 
from  the  south. 

Dabney  and  Neevy  found  a  great  solace  in  each 
other,  these  days.  The  little  romance  that  was  un 
folding  robbed  them  only  to  enrich  them;  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  years,  the  old  man  found  no  work  to 
take  him  away  in  the  evening. 

It  was  good  to  have  brought  up  a  son  and  a  daugh 
ter  like  Nance  and  Chet.  The  trials  and  hardships 
seemed  so  worth  while  now ! 


SANCTUARY  311 

"  Saw  Cash  Bailey  to-day,  mother,"  Dabney  con 
fided  to  Neevey,  one  day. 

"No!" 

"  Yes !  Cash  says  he  furnishes  homes  as  easy  as 
he  does  advice,  an'  he's  on  hand  to  git  the  order  of  his 
life." 

"  Well,  rememberin'  some  things,  I  guess  he's  sure 
goin'  to  git  it,"  answered  his  mother,  her  eyes  glisten 
ing  with  tears  of  happiness  behind  her  gold-bowed 
spectacles,  as  she  took  her  big  boy  in  her  arms  and 
gave  him  a  kiss  that  was  a  benediction  and  a  prayer. 


THE   END 


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